


And Then I Wrote Marvel

by dumbledavisjr



Category: Agents of S.H.I.E.L.D. (TV), Daredevil (TV), Guardians of the Galaxy (Movies), Marvel Cinematic Universe, The Avengers (Marvel Movies)
Genre: F/M, Gen
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-01-31
Updated: 2019-08-13
Packaged: 2019-10-20 08:00:02
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 57
Words: 91,405
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17618555
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/dumbledavisjr/pseuds/dumbledavisjr
Summary: Lots of Marvel one-shots I've written because I heckin felt like it. Most are written with a female reader in mind but a few are gender-neutral. Keep in mind I started writing these in July 2016, so they start out kinda bad but get better (I hope).





	1. Party In Heaven (Bucky Barnes x Reader)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Hecking roller coaster that has made my friends cry real tears. I literally end up killing everyone but like in a way that makes you like it.

"Careful, bud," you managed to squeeze out. Bucky was reacting very well to the news, maybe a little too well as he nearly crushed you in a hug.

"Right," he reminded himself, releasing you. "Don't want to hurt Bucky or (Y/N) Jr."

"Or me."

"I was getting to that, doll. Stop cutting me off." You gave him a look. "What?"

"You're such a dork, Barnes."

"Right back atcha, Barnes."

You smiled. "I like the sound of that. I'm still not used to it, but I like it nonetheless."

"Doll, it's been eight months."

"I've been going by (Y/N) (L/N) for all my life. 8 months is a very small period of time to get used to (Y/N) Barnes, comparatively."

He laughed good-naturedly. "You'll get used to it."

"I feel like as soon as we have this kid, it'll finally settle in," you commented.

He was silent for a few seconds, still in awe that he was going to be a father. "Gosh, I hope it likes me." Bucky ran his hand through his hair and sighed. He sat down on the couch and rested his elbows on his knees.

"Buck, sweetheart," you said, taken aback a little at his sudden change in mood. "It's your kid. They're going to love you."

"But what if they don't like...this?" he questioned, directing his head at his left arm.

You sat down on his left side, and took the opportunity to comfort him. You hooked your arms around his metal appendage and set your head on his shoulder. "They'll grow up around it. They'll associate it with the love and protection that you'll give them."

"What if they get teased?"

"Heavens, Barnes, it's like you're watching our kid grow up already. But what would they get teased about? They have Avengers as parents, not to mention that you're a trained assassin."

"Exactly."

"Who would dare tease our child? They'd probably end up in the hospital or something after what our kid could do to them."

"You have this all thought through as well, don't you?"

"Well, you know. Motherly instinct is to worry." Bucky was silent as he stared into blank space, a look of horror crossing his face. "Bucky? You alright?"

"I just thought...dating."  
\--  
Somehow, you'd convinced Bucky that you were capable of going on missions until you were 5 or so months along. That was when Natasha also stopped going, as well. She and Steve were expecting a child (just pretend with me) about the same time as you and Bucky. You two didn't fight them or anyone about it anymore, as that was when you both felt that you were done. It didn't stop you from helping with everything that you could. You were the last to see everyone off, and the first to see them back.

All the SHIELD agents laughed at you, calling you the Crazy Pregnant Ladies, or the CPL's for short. As you waited for your husbands and friends to return, you would talk to anyone who would listen to you about your hopes, dreams, and worries about the future, and sometimes they would come to you about theirs.

There was one young woman who expressed extreme admiration of you and Natasha.

"You two...it's just that you're doing amazing things and bringing in the next generation of people," she gushed. "And what am I doing?"

It was supposed to be a rhetorical statement, but Natasha looked her dead in the eye and responded, "You're making life possible for the next generation."

You had sworn several times that you were going to go into labor while everyone was out, but the Fates were kind to you about pretty much everything. It had been a quick, normal labor that had brought your daughter into the world, as well as Natasha and Steve's son a week or so prior.

Your daughter was the picture of health. Within the first few weeks of her life, it was clear that she had Bucky's features, except for one thing. When she opened her eyes, on rare occasion, all anyone could see was you.

"Dang, you did good," came Bucky's first words about her.

"She's your daughter, too; take some credit. Like 12 percent," was your reply.

"12 percent?" he repeated, sporting that trademark lopsided grin of his. "I like it. I think I'll call her that."

It was also within the first few weeks of her life that tragedy struck.

You were at home, in the middle of the fifth movie of your Harry Potter marathon. Natasha was taking her chance to sleep while Grant, they had decided to name him, was down as well. Your daughter was sleeping peacefully in your arms, and you were just waiting for a call from Bucky telling you that your people were back from the mission.

You had gotten past the point of worrying about missions years ago, when you were still going on them. You understood that danger was there, of course, but your friends knew how to avoid it pretty well. Maybe it would have been better if you had worried.

When a call came, you picked it up and answered quickly, so that it wouldn't wake up the baby. "Hey, Buck. How'd it go?"

"(Y/N)?" That wasn't Bucky on the other end of the line. You hadn't paid attention to the number that was calling you. Who else would be calling you at four in the morning?

"Steve? Why--oh, no. Please don't say--"

"It's not as bad as you think. There's a chance...a chance that..." he found himself unable to continue.

"Steve, tell me. It can't be worse than I used to imagine."

"He's...not dead, at the very least." Those words, that were meant to comfort you, did nothing to dissolve the pit forming in your stomach.

"What happened, Steve?"

He went silent, not sure how to say what was needed to. Bluntness was never the way to go in these situations, but he didn't know how else to do it.

"Steve?"

He couldn't hold it back anymore. You could hear soft crying on the other end of the line. Bucky meant just as much to Steve as he did to you. You would be able to help each other through if something did ever happen to the dark-haired super soldier. No one else knew him quite as well. 

Fighting back tears yourself, you spoke. "Steve, where are you?"

"The hangar upstairs. Why? Oh, no, you stay--"

"Not a chance. I'm bringing the kid, too."

"(Y/N), it's not pretty."

"Steve Rogers, you don't have to waste your breath trying to convince me to stay down here and worry my tail off." You had exited your room and were making your way toward the elevator. "I'm coming up there, and there is nothing you can do about it." You hung up before he could get another word in. You summoned the elevator, and when it finally got to you, you punched the button a little harder than necessary.

All the while, your daughter remained sleeping quietly. She would readjust herself and make those inexplicably cute baby noises on occasion but was content. As the elevator neared your destination, you kissed the girl's forehead for luck, and when the doors opened, you departed swiftly.

Steve was waiting for you just outside of the quinjet, arms crossed nervously. The closer you got, the more signs that he had been crying were visible. Seeing him look so defeated quelled any anger that had risen up.

"Hey," you said, managing a smile.

"I'm sorry," he replied instantly.

"Oh, Steve," you sighed. "Don't blame yourself.

"There's no one else to blame," he retorted.

"Then don't blame anyone," you countered. "There's no one to blame, nothing to blame, except for fate."

He took you onto the quinjet, where Sam was sitting next to your husband's broken body. It had just been a three-person mission. People from the hospital would be there in just a few minutes, but meanwhile, you, Sam, Steve, and your daughter were left to worry.

"Oh, Buck," you spoke, the words slipping from your thoughts, and out of your mouth.

Seemingly in response, his eyes fluttered open. "(Y-Y/N)?" he whispered. "And look," he smiled a little, through great pain, "you brought 12 percent."

Even in the process of dying, he made you laugh through your tears. "Of course I brought her. She would have been mad at me later."

"Temperamental one, she is. Almost as bad as Tony."

His amazing easygoingness at that moment almost made you believe that everything was all right. He was going to come out of this perfectly normal, finish your Harry Potter marathon with you downstairs. You could see his extensive injuries though; it would be the most amazing thing you'd ever heard of if he lived.

Your crying became heart-wrenching sobs that wracked your whole body. Your daughter woke and began crying with you, startled.

"Hey, now," Bucky soothed you, moving his arm as much as he could to touch your knee. "I can't promise that everything's going to be all right, because it's not. It never has been, and never will be. But I will always love you, in this life or the next. Both of you." He motioned to the wailing child with his hand. "Mind if I hold her for a sec?"

"Of course." You set her in between his body and his arm, her head resting on his shoulder. He snuggled her close to him, and she quieted immediately. She would have been a daddy's girl, for sure.

"Rebecca (Y/N) Barnes," he started. You had named her after his sister, her middle name being your name. "The only boy on this earth that you are allowed to date is Grant Rogers, you got that?"

"Bucky!"

"Hey! I'm just stating the facts!" You could hear a helicopter landing on the pad some distance away, and you knew that time was running out. "You two are my best girls. Never forget that."

"Not planning on it," you affirmed. Two paramedics entered the quinjet, ready to cart your husband off. You took Rebecca from him. "Not even HYDRA could make me forget," we're your last words to him.

Steve was flying over to the hospital with him. Your job was to get Natasha awake and drive people over to the hospital. Nat took one look at you and deemed you unfit to drive.

Bucky died during surgery.  
\--  
You never really did get over that. There was always a pressing absence in your life that you could never fill. Your friends agreed that you weren't the same after that. You and Rebecca relied on each other a lot, and she grew up very close to you.

As a young child, she asked a lot about her father, and it was hard for you at first, but she inherited the irresistible puppy dog eyes from her father, though they had your color. She was the only person in the world that could get you to tell stories for hours about the man you'd married. Though she couldn't remember him, she loved him just as much as you did.

She was especially nervous to start middle school, hoping instead to receive her letter to Ilvermorny, the American wizarding school. When that didn't happen, she decided to write her own letter--to her father.

You walked into her room when she was starting to write the first few sentences, and she quickly his the paper away. Instantly, you became curious as to what she was hiding from you. You were able to convince her to show you, eventually, but as soon as you saw the words, "Dear Dad," you have it back to her.

"I'll let you keep this conversation between you and your father. I promise I only saw the top line," you assured her. "In fact, I'm going to write him a letter myself."

"Mom," she said sheepishly, "do you think Steve would want to write one too?"

You smiled. "Let's ask, why don't we?"

The two of you found Steve throwing around a baseball with Grant in the gym. Steve had grown up in an era where the nation prized baseball above other sports. It must have been a shock to find that football had far overtaken it. It was only natural that he would teach his son the sport that he loved. However, when Steve and Grant weren't chucking a baseball, they would toss the shield back and forth.

Grant had inherited his mother's red hair and his father's blue eyes. At this point, it was safe to say that the super soldier serum had become hereditary in both Grant and Rebecca. The fiery ginger showed it more physically than the calm dark-haired girl, but both were extremely adept during training.

Grant saw you and Rebecca first, giving a friendly wave and a huge grin. He caught the ball without looking at it, then greeted you, "Hi, Becca! Hi, (Y/N)!"

"Hey there, ladies," Steve said, giving a soft smile. "You need something?"

"Not exactly," you hinted. "You wanna say it?" you asked your daughter. She was already bright red, looking into the distance. She shook her head vigorously. You traced her bashful gaze to Grant. "Becca thought that you might want to write letters to Buck with us." You tousled her long, dark hair.

Momentary shock surfaced on Steve's face but was covered quickly by that same soft smile. "That's a wonderful idea. Can't believe I didn't think of that."

"Dad, can I write one too?" Grant asked, tossing the ball back.

Steve caught it without fault and threw it back. "I don't see why not."

And so the four of you went to work. It was really something else to feel like you were talking to your husband again, even if you knew you wouldn't get an answer. Once, when you sat back in your chair, trying to figure out how to best phrase something, you looked over at Grant to see him smiling at Rebecca, who was smiling right back, albeit blushing furiously. When they both looked down, you nudged her, smirking. Realizing that you saw that whole exchange, she turned a much brighter crimson.

After everyone had finished, you gathered them all up in a pile and brought everyone out to a balcony. You asked Steve to hold them while you went and got something. When you came back with a lighter, you were met with confusion and a little panic.

"Oh, guys, we're burning them because that's how we make sure they get to heaven. The ash goes up and reforms up there, so they can read it," you explained. "My grandma taught me that."

"In that case..." Rebecca dashed off quickly, coming back with a small stack of paper, undoubtedly other letters she's written to her father over the years. Your heart was officially melted.

The letters were burned. You swept the ashes off of the balcony. You felt better than you had in a long time, and you could tell that Steve did, too. The super soldier placed a hand gently on Rebecca's shoulder, and she turned around, a little startled.

"Thanks for that; that was just what I needed," he told her, smiling.

Rebecca smiled back, and you did a double-take. It surprised you every time, even though you knew that she had Bucky's trademark lopsided grin. Everyone knew that, but it was still surprising every time to see his smile on her face. "Of course," she responded.

Writing letters became a habit. At the end of the month, there would be a sizable stack of letters on your desk, mostly from you, Rebecca, and Steve, but other Avengers would write one, too. You, personally, didn't care whether you were just burning pieces of paper, or if they were really going to heaven. It felt so good to pour your soul out on a page and feel like the man you loved was next to you, reading it.

As time went on, people would say that you began to revert back to who you were before. Happier, more outgoing, and much more likely to joke around. You saw your daughter grow up, becoming a skilled agent, and complete her first mission at 15 years old. You watched as Grant and Rebecca grew closer, and eventually began dating. They'd been friends since birth, but, as Bucky had predicted, they were meant to be more than that. Their relationship was something that you never wrote about, and struck a deal with Rebecca so that she wouldn't, so that, if these letters were legitimate, and there was an afterlife, you'd be able to see his reaction when you told him.

Life was good to you for a long time. Rebecca was an absolute stud with missions, and you, like before, had no worries when she went on missions without you. She always came back to finish your movie marathons with you. It did cross your mind every once in a while, especially during Harry Potter marathons, that something might happen with her as it did with Bucky, but it never did.

It happened to you.  
\--  
Rebecca had grown into a beautiful young woman. She was now 18 and finishing up her senior year of high school. As often comes with that last year also came the senior prom. Three weeks before the day, Grant secured his date with his sweetheart by asking her, Avengers-style, complete with some unplanned Tony Stark pizzazz. Those two, you swore, were the cutest couple since Percy and Annabeth, or perhaps Lily and James Potter.

You were asked that same night to supervise a mission that Grant and Rebecca were mostly leading, with five young SHIELD agents. Supervise meaning showing these kids how it's done, in Director Coulson's words.

The mission went wrong, of course, by the fault of no one but HYDRA. You'd done everything possible to make this a normal, in-out mission, but an unexpected power glitch had rebooted the systems that had been carefully shut down. Your small group had taken out any threats that had shown up, except for the top man at this base.

From a hidden ledge, he'd fired two shots. Before he could fire a third, Grant and two other agents had placed bullets carefully into his forehead. Both bullets had embedded themselves into your lower back.

"Agent Barnes!"

"(Y/N)!"

"Mom!"

Each cry came more personal than the last. You lay on the cold steel of the hallway, not daring to move for fear of more pain.

"Agents, get back to the quinjet. Agent Larsen, prep for takeoff. We'll be there in five."

"Mom?" Rebecca had quieted considerably. She had knelt next to your broken body.

"Becca," you exhaled. You were fading fast. "You--" you were interrupted by were interrupted by violent coughing, your elbow coming away bloody. "You and your father...were the best things that ever happened to me." More coughing. More blood. "Never forget that."

Rebecca was crying, sobbing her heart out. "Oh, Mom," she said through the tears. "Not even HYDRA could make me forget."  
\--  
You woke in a white bed, snuggling up against someone much larger than you. You hadn't done that in 18 years. You were startled, but you were just so comfortable that you couldn't bring yourself to open your eyes. It just all felt so familiar, so perfect.

You laid there, half asleep, half awake, for who knows how long, without a care in the world. When you finally decided that enough was enough, that you were going to do something productive with yourself, you opened your eyes. Almost immediately, they stung with tears.

His hair was cut to perfection like you'd seen it in his old photographs, his clean-shaven face peaceful and nestled into the white pillow. He was yours. Your Bucky. After 18 years, this was the most satisfying way that you could think of to be seeing him again. Even though you knew that you must be dead, you couldn't care less.

"Bucky."

It was amazing to feel his name roll off your tongue. You'd said it countless times in his absence, but there was nothing like saying it to him, even if he was too asleep to respond.

"Bucky!"

You said it again, burying your face into his shoulder.

"Five more minutes, (Y/N)," he muttered. "Wait, (Y/N)?" His eyes blinked open, and a tear slipped out of yours onto the pillow. His eyes were...his. It was Bucky. You were together again. "(Y/N)! You're here!"

He kissed you. You hadn't been kissed in so long, and it was surreal. You were back in his arms, seeing his face, kissing his lips.

"It's been too long," you whispered, almost breathlessly. "I missed you so much."

"Too long? You were supposed to have another forty, fifty years! What happened?"

"Nothing preventable. Mission, just like you. Everyone else got out safe."

"Rebecca...was she there?"

"Yes. But Buck, her last words to me were the same as mine to you. I never told her about that, and Sam and Steve never could talk about that."

"Looks like me, thinks like you. I got that much from the letters."

Your eyes brightened. "You really got those?"

"All of them, I hope."

"How long ago did you start getting them?"

"I think about seven years ago. I got a whole bunch then, and got some about every month after that." He smiled. "They appear on my nightstand, stacked perfectly and organized according to the sender. It's amazing."

"Do you keep them?"

"How could I not?"

You started crying again. It was more than you imagined, heaven, or at least, that was where you assumed that you were. What else could this be?

You caught up on everything you might have forgotten to mention in the letters, except for Grant and Rebecca being an item, and he filled you in on how the afterlife worked. Once you were ready, you would go to a place where you could see anyone that you wanted to that has passed, do things that you wanted to do.

Bucky was determined to dance with you like it was the '40's again. He wanted you to meet all of his friends and meet people that you had known. Or, if you wanted, you could just stay in your place together while you got used to the idea of the afterlife. You opted for the latter, not quite ready to share your husband that you had spent far too much time without.

Over the next few weeks, you got comfortable with how time was spent up here. You met the Howling Commandoes first, followed by other people he'd befriended over the course of his life. Your favorite person by far was Peggy Carter, a woman that you got along with famously. You loved all the stories that you heard.

About three weeks after you woke up next to your husband, a picture, accompanied with several letters, appeared on the nightstand. You were the first to see them, and setting aside the picture and the letters made out to Bucky, you read the ones written for you.

All of the Avengers and their children had written one for you, each about personal experiences you'd had with all of them, and how you'd improved their lives. The one you saved for last was your daughter's. Her words were so perfectly crafted, it seemed a shame that she'd burned them without a second thought.

Bucky found you hugging paper and crying, sitting on the bed. He understood what you were going through; he'd had the same reaction the first time he'd received letters from the living. He hugged you until you had completely calmed down, then you have him his letters and the picture, not realizing that you had spaced telling him that his wishes of his daughter's love life had come true.

"(Y/N), look at this! Rebecca! She's gorgeous! Did you help her pick out her dress? And who's that she's standing next to?"

You looked over at the picture, really taking it in for the first time. You and Rebecca had had plans to go dress shopping a week after that mission. You had no idea whether she'd picked the '50's style dress or someone had helped her. She hadn't mentioned it in her letter.

"I don't know who picked her dress, but standing next to her, that's Grant."

His mouth fell open. "No way. It happened. It actually happened. Was this just a prom thing or has it been a while?"

"It's been like that for a while now. They started liking each other in middle school, nod started dating sophomore year."

"Why didn't you tell me? Why didn't she tell me? All my dreams have come true!"

"I wanted to see your reaction, not just hear about it later. I will tell you, this is priceless. You're having a full-on fangirl attack, Buck."

"Heck, yeah!"

Three years after you died, you received another photo, that of a wedding. The two second-generation super soldiers had gotten hitched at 21. Two years after that, you got a picture of two babies, twins. And five years after that, you and Bucky got your first letters from your grandson and granddaughter.

You were joined by the rest of the Avengers over the course of time. The best reunion by far was Bucky and Steve, not to say that others weren't good. Tony and his parents were reunited 25 or so years after you got there. You never thought that someone dying could make you feel so warm and fuzzy.

72 years after your arrival up here, someone appeared in the white chair tucked into the corner overnight. She woke up a little confused, but understood everything once she saw the two of you sleeping in the bed next to her.

"Mom! Dad!"

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> :)
> 
> Unfortunately the next few (in my opinion) will not be quite as good as this one is.


	2. Intimate Frisbee (Steve Rogers x Reader)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Just a ball of fluff I guess. Not my best work to be sure

"Heads up, Goal Hawk!" Your toss zinged perfectly into Clint's hand for a touchdown.

"I swear, (Y/N)," Natasha called from the other team, "if we had known you were this good with a frisbee, we would have made you a ref along with Thor and Bruce."

"I forgot that I was a frisbee ninja, otherwise I would have told you."

Tony called his team in for a time out, and Steve took the opportunity to congratulate your team on your overwhelming lead. "High fives all around!" he exclaimed. "I think we have this in the bag."

"Helps when you have (Y/N) here who can land a touchdown from any point in the gym," Sam remarked, punching you softly in the arm.

"And Steve whose weapon is a giant metal frisbee," you tried to direct the attention away from yourself.

"How long have you been so good at this?" Wanda inquired.

"I guess I started playing a lot of Ultimate Frisbee whenever I could as a teenager. My guy friends were super into it, and it looked fun. I haven't played in years, though, but I guess I'm still as good as I used to be."

"Thank goodness you are, because we'd probably be losing if you weren't," Clint reasoned.

"We don't need that negative energy, Clint. Only positivity allowed here," you chided.

"I apologize, Frisbee Queen."

Tony's team broke up with a cheer, and Steve's began to ready yourselves to cheer.

"Apology accepted, Goal Hawk."

You cheered, and as you disbanded, Steve, your boyfriend of a few years now, pulled you in for a side hug and a quick kiss on your cheek.

"You've got this, doll," he assured you quietly.

"PDA!" Tony shouted from across the gym.

"You're just jealous, Stark!" you teased.

The game restarted, and within 10 seconds, Steve had the frisbee in your hand and another you threw in another touchdown. Tony's team began to grumble.

"Hey, hey, (Y/N), I thought we agreed not to use any powers," Rhodey complained jokingly.

The game went on, you scoring point after point, and you got bored. You started showing off, if you didn't consider destroying the competition casually showing off. Fancy spirals down into the end zone, a roundabout curve into Clint's hands, you name the trick, you probably did it. Even bouncing it off of the gym wall.

Time finally ran out, and the game of Ultimate Frisbee ended. Team Stark grumbled sassy remarks and insults at you as you all exited the gym. The new kid, Perry...Percy? no, Peter, congratulated you with a smile, unlike the rest of the sore losers he'd played with.

"That was awesome! You think you could show me how to do that?" he requested.

"Nah, then I'd have a competitor," you retorted, giving your ponytail a flick and falling back to walk out with Steve. Little did you know, your stunning performance had given him a couple of ideas.  
\--  
"(Y/N), can you come over here?" Steve asked.

"Yeah, why? You need backup?"

"Of some sort."

"Rogers, this is a mission. We don't have time for distractions."

"This isn't a distraction, well, it kind of is, but--"

"Steve!"

"I just want to test a theory!"

You groaned and made your way over to Steve as quickly as you could. He handed you his shield.

"See those 10 HYDRAs on the wall over there?"

"Firing at our friends? Yeah."

"Take out as many as you can with a single toss."

"My gosh, Steve. Is this about the frisbee thing?"

"Throw!"

Taking only a split second to calibrate yourself, you dashed out quickly, Steve right behind you for cover. You threw the shield with all you had and managed to hit 7 out of the 10. The big hunk of metal was too heavy for you to really work with. That was the best you could give.

Steve caught the shield as it arced back towards you, and raised it as you received some attention from the remaining guards. An arrow struck one, and another fell likely due to a gunshot. That left one more.

"What the heck," you said, and took the shield once more. You almost felt kinda bad for the guy. One thing was for sure; you had completely affirmed that Steve's theory was correct.  
\--  
"Who's this one from?"

"That would be me," Steve replied. It had been a little over a week since he'd had you try out his shield.

"I knew I saved the best for last," you commented. Tony brought his phone out and began to record the scene laying out.

You began to tear the (F/C) wrapping paper off the birthday present. It looked maybe the size of one of those clothing boxes, but it wasn't like Steve to give you clothes for your birthday. That was more of a grandma/grandpa thing, although he fit the age requirements, technically speaking.

It was one of those clothing boxes, dang it. You glanced at Steve, now unsure.

"Don't look at me like that! It was the only box that was about the right size."

"Whatever you say, Cap."

You opened the box slowly, wary of what could be inside, only to be met with (F/C) tissue paper. You pulled it out cautiously, not quite daring enough to look.

It was a shield. A small replica of Steve's just a little bigger than your average frisbee. Magnetic gauntlets were folded neatly underneath.

"Steve, that is so cute!" Wanda fangirled a little bit. She had been one of your shippers since she first heard you speak to each other.

"What's she supposed to do with a mini-shield? That's not gonna do much damage," Tony commented pessimistically.

"Well," you began to laugh, making your voice much more high-pitched than normal, "Dobby never meant to kill! Just maim, or seriously injure!"

"Noooooo!" Natasha groaned. "That's terrible!"

"I try, Tasha." You turned to Steve. "You really outdid yourself this time, Rogers."

"Well, if you think this is outdone," he started, scratching the back of his head like a nervous teenage boy, "I can't begin to imagine what this is." He pulled a box out of his jacket pocket and bent down on one knee.

"Steve!" you gasped.

"Gosh, I had a whole speech prepared, and I forgot it. Way to go, Man with a Plan."

"Sweetheart, you could have nudged my arm on a random Tuesday and just said "Marry me?" and I would have said yes," you comforted him.

"Why Tuesday?" Sam mumbled. Bruce shrugged in response.

"Yeah, but that doesn't make this any less embarrassing. Eh, at least I remember the last line." He took a breath as he prepared himself. You struggled to refrain from giggling.

"Would you make me the happiest man on this whole dang planet and agree to save the world right next to me? Every step of the way? Would you, (Y/F/N), marry me?"

"Eh," you paused, enjoying the frightened look on your soon-to-be fiancé's face. "Why not?"

"'S that a yes?"

You got down on your knees and kissed him full on the lips. "You tell me, buddy."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I can't remember if this one, the next one, or the one after that was the first one-shot I ever wrote. I'm split like 40/40 on "the next one" and "the one after that" but there's a 20% chance it was this one.


	3. In Sickness and in Health (Bucky Barnes x Reader)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> More fluff

You had the worst bout of stomach flu the world, or your world, more accurately, had ever seen. You had decided to quarantine yourself in the bathroom in hopes of keeping it to yourself. A steady stream of sacrifices to the porcelain goddess had been made over yesterday and today, and you had a feeling that it would continue somewhat into tomorrow as well.

A knock on the door sounded. "No, not right now," you replied automatically, your voice as weak as they came.

"I figured that you might like a little human company. I know the toilet is your best friend right now, but..." It was Bucky.

"Buck, no. I don't want to take any chances. Even if you have less of a chance of catching this, I don't want you carrying it--" you were interrupted by a series of dry heaves, followed by a few that weren't quite so dry.

Bucky winced every time he heard a noise from behind the wooden door. You had thrown up everything until you had nothing left. He didn't want you to feel alone, even if you wouldn't let him in.

"Doll, let me help you. Do you think you could hold down some water? Soda crackers?"

The thought of anything even entering your mouth made your stomach churn again. "Not a chance. And this door is not opening for anything."

"When was the last time you ate? Slept, even?"

"I haven't eaten anything in the last 32 hours, and I might have stolen a few winks last night, but I'm really not sure."

"Oh, sweetheart..."

"I'm fine, really. Go see if Steve wants to do anything with you or something. Don't let me weigh you down, bud."

"You could never weigh me down. I've got superstrength, remember? You're a feather."

"I'll probably literally be a feather after this lovely couple of days." You made another round of sacrifices. "Kill me now," you moaned.

"Don't talk like that!"

"Buck, I wasn't serious. It would just be nice to not have to deal with this anymore."

"(Y/N), listen. You're the strongest person I know."

"I thought you just said that you have super strength. Steve does, too. Let's not forget The Other Guy--"

"(Y/N), I'm trying to be serious here. You've dealt with so much more than a stupid flu virus, and if this is what gets you, that's the sickest joke I've ever heard in my life."

"Sickest...ha...that's a good one."

Your boyfriend slapped his forehead. "Pun unintended."

"It's still funny."

"You're the weirdest thing I've ever met in my entire life."

"That's why you love me, though, right?"

"I wouldn't have it any other way, doll."

You puked again. "Oh, gross, it got in my hair!" you whined. You turned on the sink and tried to wash it out. You were too scared to shower, in case you puked in there. "Why me?"

"Just imagine it as HYDRA's lame excuse of trying to take you out. They're scared of you. Remind them why."

"That's sweet," you remarked, "but I don't think anyone's scared of me right now.

"Well, they should be. You'd probably just projectile vomit in their face if anyone tried anything."

"You know me too well, Barnes." You paused. "Heavens, I'm tired."

Bucky sat down on the other side of the door. "I get that. I also get feeling like crap."

"I can only imagine," you mumbled. You were so exhausted, but there was no way that your body was going to let you sleep. Tears began to form in your eyes. "Kill me now," you repeated. "You'd be doing me a favor."

"Maybe currently," Bucky agreed. "But only the current version of yourself. Maybe HYDRA. But that's it." He slipped his fingers underneath the door. "We'd miss you."

"Buck, what are you doing?" Even as you asked the question, you moved over by the door and put your hand over his fingers. "Why are you still wasting your time with me?"

"I love you too much to let you go through this alone." Human contact, especially with him, made you relax. This was what you'd been needing.

"Thank you. I'm still not letting you in, but thank you."

"Fine by me. I just want to help however I can."

"This...this is perfect." Your breathing began to slow as your body finally began to give in. "I love you."

"I love you more."

"I love you most," you finished the Disney quote.

"I love you the very most."

"Cheater."

You were the first to nod off, finally. Bucky soon followed, and if anyone could make the door like glass, they would see that the two of you were basically leaning against each other.

Perfection.


	4. The Pikavengers (Avengers x Reader)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> I found this image on Pinterest and couldn't resist writing something about it.

You laughed way louder than you should have been laughing at this. It was just so absurd--yet, so fitting--to see your friends portrayed this way.

"Uh-oh," Clint commented, not looking up from whatever he was reading. "It's about us."

"Shut up, Hawk. It's not directly about you."

"But it's about the Avengers?" Steve asked to clarify.

"Eh, some of you. You wouldn't get it, Steve."

"And why is that?"

"Do you know what a Pokémon is?"

Clint all but fell off the couch he was reading on and began scrambling towards you to see what was on your phone screen. "This is too good!" he chuckled when he saw the picture.

"Let me see!" Steve demanded, getting up from his seat to look. You turned away the screen.

"Steve, really, you wouldn't understand."

"What wouldn't he understand?" Bruce inquired as he entered the room, looking up from his tablet.

"Come here," you invited. You held your phone over your head and the edge of the couch so that Bruce could see, but not Steve.

"Oh, no," he sighed. "As much as I hate to admit it, it's perfect."

You giggled. "I'm sending it to Tony so that I can get his opinion on it."

You saved and sent the picture, waiting for his reaction.

_Nooooooooooooooooo_

Came his first reply.

_Whyyyyyyyyy_

Was his second.

_Why do you do this to me, (Y/N)?_

After the third text, you responded.

_You have to admit that it's amazing_

After a few seconds in which you were pretty sure that he was trying to speak whale, he sent a response.

_It really is, but it hurts_

Laughing, you showed the conversation to Clint and Bruce, then texted back.

_The truth hurts, Tony, but you just have to deal with it_

He responded almost immediately.

_It's my new lock screen_

You showed your friends the conversation again, and they joined you in laughter over Tony's reaction to the picture.

_I knew you'd come around. It's my lock screen too_

Steve was still complaining about how you were his teammates and you shouldn't be keeping stuff from him. You continued to decline to show him over and over, eventually saying that you had to find Natasha to see her reaction in person.

He followed.

You caught your vivacious redheaded friend in the middle of her post-workout yoga. She looked up from whatever ridiculous pose she was in and cracked a smile.

"It's not often that you see those guys looking so cute," she chuckled, changing positions.

"Who's looking cute?" Steve inquired, becoming more exasperated by the second.

"You won't tell him?"

"He wouldn't understand it."

Natasha gave you a skeptical look. "That's not the only reason."

"You know me too well, Tasha. It's also because it's fun seeing Stevie so mad over nothing."

"It is not nothing, (Y/N)!" Steve shouted. "As a fellow member of the team, I have every right to know what everyone else thinks is so funny. You shouldn't be keeping things from your teammates!"

"Chill, my thawed friend. You'll find out soon enough," you replied, casually flipping your hair over your shoulder and going to find some other people.

"Hey, Buck," you called upon entering his room. He was sitting on his bed, borrowing your Nintendo DS. He looked up from the game that you'd told him to play. "Whadda ya think?"

His face split into a grin. "I love it. Except for the one that's supposed to be me. The rest of them are great."

"She won't let me see," Steve complained, hoping that his long-time friend would do something about it.

"That's rough, buddy," he replied, going back to Pokémon Sapphire.

You smiled at what he'd said. You had been introducing him to your favorite things so that someone would understand you. He took to today's world a lot better than Steve.

"You're the best, Buck."

"Tell me something I don't know."

"Alright, then." You took an exaggerated breath to explain something, but he stopped you.

"Not literally, (Y/N), please. Now, punks, if you wouldn't mind leaving me to my game. I have Gym Leader Flannery to beat."

You both exited at his request. "Have fun beating your rival by the Cycling Route," you warned him.

"Noted," he called back.

Out in the hallway, Steve began whining again.

"(Y/N), I don't even care if I get whatever reference this is. Just show me the stupid picture and get me off your tail."

"Ooh, making offers now, are we? Throw in some (favorite candy) and we have a deal."

"You're really going to do this now?"

"Yeah, I ate the last of my stash yesterday."

He closed his eyes and turned his head up towards the heavens. "You have got to be kidding me," he groaned. "Fine. Just show me the picture."

You turned your phone screen so that he could now see it.

https://www.google.com/url?sa=i&source=images&cd=&cad=rja&uact=8&ved=2ahUKEwifwNauu5zgAhUHCnwKHcLNCOMQjRx6BAgBEAU&url=https%3A%2F%2Fwww.pinterest.com%2Fmo2jie2lin%2Favengers%2F&psig=AOvVaw00cVuJsoqZly_OBLB0rIt-&ust=1549176777923104

He looked it over in confusion. He said finally, "Why is there a yellow bunny thing dressed like us?"

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I can't find the artist anywhere so if anyone knows who it is, please tell me so I can link back to them!


	5. Skittles Pt 1/2 (Peter Parker x Reader)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> fluff and some good ol' teenage angst (not death and dying just teens being teens)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> lol my little sister requested this as a ten year old

"Ow! Seriously, Parker?"

"Oh my gosh, I am so sorry, (Y/N)!"

"I don't understand how you manage to drop your stupid Calculus book on my head every freaking day."

"I don't know either...it just happens. I really am sorry. Um...I have a Snickers if you want one?"

"Almost tempting, except for the fact that I'm allergic to peanuts. I thought you would have known that by now." You stormed off, promising yourself that you would take every precaution to avoid having to go to your locker between second and third period.

"Do you like chocolate then?" he called after you, but you either couldn't hear him or were ignoring him. "Smooth, Parker, smooth. Especially for the kid that sticks to everything he touches."

He walked off to Calculus, trying to think of any good candy bars without peanuts. You were sure missing out on a lot. He sat down at his desk, where he was placed next to (Y/F/N). She noticed his contemplativeness, which wasn't unusual, necessarily, but he looked more troubled than was the norm.

"Y'okay, Pete?"

"What's (Y/N)'s favorite candy bar?" he blurted out.

"What? Where is this coming from?"

He took a breath, slowing himself down. "Have you heard about how I manage to drop my Calculus book on her every day?" She nodded her head slowly. "Well, she was really mad about it today, and I offered her the Snickers that I had in my backpack."

"Didn't you know that she's allergic to peanuts?"

"I guess not. She yelled at me about that, too. So I'm trying to think of a candy bar that she likes."

"She likes Skittles, I guess. Just so you know, she skipped breakfast this morning, too, so that's mostly why she's yelling so much."

"I still feel bad for dropping my book on her. Consistently. Every day. Ugh." He dropped his head onto the table, like a facepalm. Face-table?

"She doesn't actually mind. There was a kid in sixth grade that dropped his clarinet case on her head. She laughs when she tells the story."

"(Y/N) just has the most rotten luck with locker neighbors."

"She only thinks so about sixth grade. She would probably say that her junior year top locker neighbor's cuteness factor is worth the book drop."

"What?!" Peter turned bright red.

(Y/F/N) realized what she had said and replied quickly with her own, "What?"

"What did you say?"

"I said 'what.'"

"No, before that."

"A kid in sixth grade dropped his clarinet on her head?"

"After--you're impossible," he sighed.

"Nothing's impossible, Pete. Difficult, yes, but not impossible."

He accepted defeat for the time being as class started. The teacher, Mrs. George, was young and full of energy, making her class one that her students looked forward to every day, despite the subject. She jumped across the whiteboards, writing up notes and walking the class through examples. She was determined that everyone would pass the AP exam.

Ten minutes before the bell, luck began to turn in Peter's favor. A spider descended from the ceiling onto (Y/F/N)'s desk. Her eyes widened, and the color drained from her face.

"Peter," she whispered frantically. "Peter, get it off my desk."

"You know what I want in return," he said simply, continuing taking notes.

"Parker, now is not the time for that."

"There is one easy step in getting that spider off of your desk."

"I hate you."

"The feeling is mutual."

She rolled her eyes and sighed. "(Y/N) has a crush on you. Ever since you dropped the book on her the first time."

Peter smiled and swept the spider off of the desk and onto the floor, far enough away that it was invisible on the floor. Sorry, little guy, he thought. "You will tell no one that you told me this."

"Why not?"

"I have a date to ask her out on."

(Y/F/N)'s mouth dropped open.

The next few weeks, you successfully avoided your locker between 9:00 and 9:05. You had just been hangry in the moment, but you felt some strange commitment to not being there when Peter was. No matter how much your friend insisted that you had to go there during that time, you remained undeterred in your efforts.

Meanwhile, Peter was getting nervous. Had he really done it that day in his ignorance to your peanut allergy? Was that the last straw to you avoiding him forever? He had a package of Skittles in his backpack with a cheesy apology/ask-out note, waiting for the day you returned.

It took a while, but there came a day that you forgot to pick up your third-hour textbook from your locker, and you had to face Peter once again. Your stomach twisted itself into knots, hoping that maybe he was sick today, or your textbook would just magically pop up in your backpack so that you wouldn't have to talk to him. Neither of those happened.

Peter was perfectly healthy, albeit a strange black eye, and standing by his open locker, looking just as nervous as you felt. He gave a friendly smile as you walked over.

"Hi, (Y--" he tried to say, but you interrupted him.

"Save it, Parker," you barked at him. "Try not to drop your Calculus book on me." You had skipped breakfast that day, too.

"O-oh. Okay. Sorry."

You had your textbook in hand and were shutting your locker door, but the Calculus book had to get a final word in. It dropped on your knees, coming to rest on your lap. You were standing up and ready to bash some heads in with that book when you thankfully noticed that a piece of paper was taped to the cover.

I know this is lame, but my heart--there was a fun-size package of Skittles glued to the page in that spot--when I see you, and I drop things. Will you go out with me?

"Peter freakin' Parker!" you exclaimed, the sweet note melting your anger. "Of course I'll go out with you. You could have just told me that was why you dropped your stupid book on me."

"Yeah, but you're really scary when you're mad."

"Oh, yeah. Forgot about that part."

He smiled, and your heart fluttered, or "Skittled," you supposed. He kissed your cheek, and your heart stopped for a second.

"Friday night, the skating rink, 8 o'clock?" he suggested.

"Yeah, that'll work just great."

"Oh, and before I forget, I have more Skittles for you. (Y/F/N) told me that you liked them."

"She was right about that. She was right about everything," you admitted, mostly to yourself.

"See you tomorrow, Skittles."

"If that's a thing, then sure thing, Snickers."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> "Peter freakin' Parker" ended up being an inside joke with my best friend and me like she's peter freakin' parker in my phone and I'm ari freakin' caine in hers


	6. Skittles Pt 2/2 (Peter Parker x Reader)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The Most Cliche (TM) and I love it. Girl gets kidnapped, is a smart-mouth, spoods comes and rescues her

"What in the heck are you talking about?" you asked the man interrogating you meticulously. "Why on earth would I know the identity of Spider-Man? Weirdo." You'd fallen asleep last night in your own bed but had woken up with your hands cuffed individually to this surprisingly comfortable chair. Then again, it appeared to be an average classroom chair; you were used to those. The only thing that made you mad about the situation was that someone physically broke into your home.

The other thing was that you definitely knew who Spider-Man was. You'd been dating him for a year and a half. However, this idiot hadn't given you food. You weren't scared of any crap he could come up with right now. He should be scared of you. Scratch that, he should be cowering in a corner, genuinely fearing for his life.

"No, my dear, I feel that you know exactly who Spider-Man is. You will be revealing this information."

"Oh, no," you said, worry creeping into your voice. "This is terrible."

"What? What's terrible?"

"Someone...someone must have falsely informed you...that I care!"

The man slapped you, but you had no regrets. You'd had that line on repeat in your head for the longest time, and you were glad to finally have found a way to use it.

"Insolent child! You are going to tell me who Spider-Man is, or you will die!"

"Say it louder; I don't think the Terra Cotta warriors heard you."

He slapped you again, but again, you had exactly zero feelings of regret. "Sarcasm will get you nowhere in this world."

"I don't know, it gets Spider-Man a lot of fans. People like the sassy quips."

The man let out a cry of frustration.

"Listen, friend, as soon as you're done with your temper tantrum, I have school to go to. If I'm not there by third period, my friends are going to freak out and probably call the police or something." You stopped, watching him pace as he pinched the bridge of his nose. "I could go for some food right now. You know, if you have any. If you don't, my sincerest condolences go to your family."

"You keep talking, and your family will be the ones mourning."

"But I need to talk in order to tell you who Spider-Man is, don't I?"

"I can see why you don't have many friends," he groaned.

"Nah, I have all the friends I want. You're just seeing my hungry side. The hungrier I get, the grumpier I am. The grumpier I get, the sassier I am. Furthermore, the sassier I get--"

"You've proven your point!" he raved. "Just answer my question, and you can have food and go free."

You noticed a window in on an upstairs ledge opening quietly, and a familiar red and blue figure crawling through. You smirked, readying to mentally abuse this guy more while Peter readied himself to strike.

"Just one problem," you said.

"And what is that?" he asked through gritted teeth.

"I don't know the answer to your question."

The man pulled a gun from his waistband and aimed it at your forehead. "Yes, I truly believe that you do." He took a step closer.

"Let's think about this logically. No one except for Spider-Man himself knows who he is. He wears this lovely thing covering his face that we like to call a mask. Heard of one?" He clicked the safety back. "Apparently so. You know, I've always wanted to see under that mask. I bet he's really cute. But if you, like, brought Spider-Man to me and let me see his face, then I could probably tell you who he is. 'Course, if you went through all the trouble to get him here just to take his mask off in front of me, why wouldn't you just do it by your--" he lost his patience and shot your shoulder. "Agh! What in the actual heck was that for?"

"You need to stop stalling," he replied simply.

"I told you, Señor Jerk-Face, I don't know who he is! My gosh, do you kidnap random girls and shoot them often?"

"Not unless they have information that I want."

"How about you stop torturing the lady for something she doesn't know," a voice suggested from above, "and just ask me?"

The man looked up to see Spider-Man hanging from the ceiling. Before he could act, Peter descended rapidly to land his foot solidly on his face. He fell to the ground, out cold.

"I certainly got a kick outta that, you?" Peter asked you.

You laughed, then groaned. "Parker, that was terrible."

"You're a sucker for bad puns, (L/N), and you know it." He pulled from your shirt collar the spare bobby pin that you had learned to keep on you at all times and began to unlock the cuffs keeping you in the chair.

"I'm also a sucker for not bleeding out on my favorite pajamas. What do you say we call the police and get me to a hospital?"

"Sounds good. You're going to want food, too."

"As if you have to say that."  
\--  
"How are you so calm about this?!" (Y/F/N) shouted at you. "If I'd been kidnapped, shot, then saved by Spider-Man, I'd be pretty shaken up."

You were sitting in your bed at home, resting. At the hospital, you'd had the bullet removed, and the wound stitched up. You were on a considerable amount of painkillers but despite that, you were pretty clear-headed. Peter was on his way from his apartment with some cookies that his aunt had made for you; Aunt May adored you.

"It could be the painkillers," you admitted, "but even in the situation, I was pretty calm. It's probably because it may be the first time, but it definitely won't be the last."

"What kind of thinking is that? Are you completely insane? I've never been kidnapped before, my parents haven't, and my grandparents, who are also, need I remind you, native New Yorkers, haven't either. Why are you so sure that this will happen again?"

"Eh, like I said, painkillers," you shrugged it off, trying to cover your mistake.

"She's gone mad," (Y/F/N) whispered to herself.

A knock sounded on your bedroom door, and Peter walked in with a plate of snickerdoodles and a package of Skittles. "Present for you," he smiled.

"Aw, Snickers, you shouldn't have," you replied, giving him a kiss on the cheek while he set the cookies and the candy on your lap.

(Y/F/N) squealed quietly, and you and your boyfriend both rolled your eyes.

"(Y/F/N), really, it's been a year and a half. You can stop freaking out," Peter chuckled.

"Time doesn't make anything less cute," she justified.

"Babies. It makes babies less cute," you argued. "Also, flowers, and--"

"Well, if you're just going to be a smart-alec about it, then time doesn't make relationships less cute."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I just wanna say that my cousin, a straight male, requested this sequel


	7. Angel Without Wings (Clint Barton x Reader)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The reader can heckin fly. On a mission with her best amigo Clint, she gets hurt pretty dang bad

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I love this one with my whole heart, just like I love our favorite purple archer AKA The Best Avenger (TM)

You grabbed Clint and flew away from what you both considered a successful mission. Because of your ability of flight, you were able to leave the quinjet a little farther away, but still get in and out just as quickly. You had been noticed by only one or two guards, but it would be far too late for them to say anything by the time that they could--if they ever would be able to. You and Clint hadn't really bothered to check.

No one could have anticipated the sniper in the trees below.

The bullet hit your abdomen without a sound, and you went down. You twisted yourself so that you would receive most of the damage as you both fell through the dense foliage. Clint was falling above you, on top of you even, so that you would cushion his fall and he might be able to fly you out of there. No one was waiting back at the quinjet, and Banner had fallen asleep a while ago; you could hear gentle snoring through the comm.

The pilot was more important than the passenger, in this case, so you made your best attempt to secure his life.

All breath was forced from your lungs when the first tree branch smacked your upper back, and you were crushed further from above by Clint. You both continued descending through the trees. Whether fortunately or the opposite, you couldn't decide, you didn't sustain any direct hits to your head, but landing on the hard ground still hurt like heck. The bullet in your stomach didn't do anything to help with that.

He got off of you as quickly as he could, kneeling next to your broken form. "(Y/N)! No, no, no, a million times no..."

"Clint--"

"Thank goodness, you're alive."

"Get to the plane. Fly away." Breathing took a lot of effort, and talking took an infinite amount more. You were going to be using as little speech as you could.

"There is no way I'm leaving without you." Was he really implying that that was what you wanted him to do? He was lucky that he was pretty.

"No crap."

"Right. Sorry. 'Kay, I'm going to try and lift you," he said, giving you fair warning. You gasped as his arms slid under your body and lifted you, disturbing whatever it had tried to settle into. "You alright? Stupid question, never mind. Of course you're not."

"I'm fine," you squeaked in response, an octave or two above what was normal. "Go slow."

His skill in stealth helped in this situation that you were stuck in; he was light on his feet and fairly even in step. It hurt, nonetheless, but he made walking through the forest bearable. At every sound that escaped your lips, he would cast a worried glance down at your pain-ridden face. With every tear that slipped, without permission, out of your eyes, a little bit of him died inside.

Your consciousness began to fade in and out, and your eyes closed slowly, your head coming to rest against his chest. The rising and falling of your chest were too shallow, almost unmoving. You were losing a lot of blood quickly through the gunshot wound. Clint's rising panic levels were justifiable; your life appeared to be coming to an end all too soon.

"Not on my watch," he growled, quickening his pace. The quinjet was in sight. All that was left was to get Bruce awake, somehow, and have a medical team ready when you got back. Flying was the easy part. Waking up Bruce? Not so much. "There's too much that I needed to tell you."

The quinjet was finally in sight. He boarded quickly and set you down on the floor gently. The cold metal felt good, in some way. Clint sat down in the pilot's seat and prepared quickly for takeoff.

"Banner!" he shouted. "Bruce, wake up!"

"Gah!" A series of crashes could be heard through the other end of the line. "Must have dozed off for a while there, sorry," he apologized.

"You'll be a little sorrier if you can't have an ambulance waiting for us, or paramedics, or something."

"Why? What happened?"

"Sniper hit the Angel, she used her own body to save me. I'm...I don't know how much blood she's lost, but it looks like she broke several bones. It's not good."

"No kidding, it's not good. Give me a few minutes, and I'll have people waiting for you at the hospital." The line went silent. Clint switched his comm off.

"Dang it, (Y/N)," he sighed, not sure if you were conscious or not. He had to get this out, either way. "You don't know what you do to me. I started feeling this way about you when I first met you at that briefing, all those years ago. I never believed in love at first sight until that moment, and I knew you'd struck me.

"And when you were asking the team for a code name or a nickname, I was so close to saying Cupid, but I decided not to say it. I knew that you and I were just friends, and it was supposed to be that way. So I said Angel instead because you are one. The way you make me feel is unearthly.

"I guess...if I never get the chance to tell you when I know you're listening, I love you. You're my Angel without Wings, and you always have been. Sorry that I never had the guts to tell you to your face." He flicked his comm back on.

You had heard the whole thing; tears flowed freely down into your hair.  
\--  
Surgery was successful, and, yes, a lot of your body had been crushed, but it was nothing that resting (for way too long, in your opinion) couldn't help. After several months in the hospital, you were cleared to return home. Clint was your number one visitor, according to the data you had recorded. Hey, you were bored, what could you say? Not once did either one of you mention what had gotten you in this position.

You were a little disappointed. You wanted to tell him that you had heard what he had to say, but it never came up in conversation, and it always felt awkward to slip it in. You'd never felt that way before, but now that he said that he was absolutely head over heels, you were willing to give it a try.

Physical therapy was going nicely. Since you hadn't walked in months, it was difficult to get back into the swing of things. Once you could walk and run like a normal person, combat training was important too. It was embarrassing, how low you'd slipped. You felt like a new agent again, and most certainly not like an Avenger.

You got back to yourself quicker than you had originally expected, but you still had yet to try to fly. You only ever used your powers when you needed to, and in returning to yourself, flying wasn't necessary at all. You hadn't even considered it.

It was while you were sparring with Clint that you had your first urges to try and fly again. It was also because he wanted to practice shooting at a moving target higher than him, but it was all the same to you. You would carry the target and fly around, as he would still peg the bullseye every time. It used to be one of your favorite exercises.

To take off, you would shift your weight quickly to the balls of your feet. Standing on them for only a brief moment, you lifted off of the ground and were able to maneuver yourself however you wished. It came as a surprise when, target your arms, you lifted your heels like you'd done countless times before, and you stayed on the ground.

You tried again, with no results. "What the heck?" you grumbled under your breath. You kept trying.

All Clint could see was that you were rocking back and forth, growing increasingly concerned. "Um...(Y/N)? Are you okay?"

"I can't take off! I can't fly! What's wrong with me? Why--"

"Hey, hey, (Y/N), it's okay. Let's sit down over--okay, the floor is good, too." You had fallen on your knees, and he knelt down to meet you.

"Why can't I fly?" you repeated, looking at the floor.

"I don't know, but we can figure this all out."

"How?" you asked, but he didn't respond. He simply didn't have an answer for you. You decided to take his silence as your opportunity to ask him about what he had said months ago. "Clint?"

"Yeah?"

You looked up to meet his eyes. "Do you remember that mission? The one that I almost died on?"

He chuckled at the ironies of life. "How could I forget? You almost died."

"True. But on the way back, it could have bee the pain doing things to my head, but you said some really sweet things."

He stared at you, wide-eyed. "You heard that?"

"I think I heard all of it. You...you said that you loved me."

"Yeah. That's what I said, all right. I understand if you don't feel the same way, it's fine, really." He looked towards the gym floor in shame.

You realized at that moment that you truly loved him back. He'd been helping you so much. He'd always been there for you. Here he was, comforting you in your time of need. These few months that you'd been recovering, you'd been falling in love with him. Now that he was implying that you didn't, you understood that you really did. "Clint, I do feel the same way."

His head snapped up. "You do?"

You smiled and nodded. "Of course."

"How about a date, then?"  
\--  
The team loved it. They had a special ship name for the two of you, invoked mostly by Tony whenever he saw the two of you doing something cute. Your dates were always cute things that left you wanting more; they were never super fancy or super cheap, just perfect.

It had been a little over a year since that fateful mission when he decided to take you to a playground right before the Sun was setting. Almost no one was there, and the two of you were taking advantage of playing tag around the jungle gym, pulling your legs up and trying to do monkey bars, and, of course, the swings.

The swingset was your home. You'd long since ruled that you wouldn't be flying again. You could almost feel the joy of soaring through the air as you rocked back and forth on the swings. Clint liked them a little too much, as well.

The Sun had set, darkness was setting in, and your swinging was at a bare minimum. You and Clint were discussing things that would rock the bases of science, surely. The two of you were extremely content like you always were around each other.

"Hey, (Y/N)?" he asked, grabbing your attention.

"Yeah?" you answered, turning to look at him. You were met with his lips against yours--your first kiss. It was short and chaste, but it was a beautiful thing. You said nothing for the next few minutes, just enjoying the presence of the other in your life.

Clint broke the silence, challenging, "I bet I can jump off farther than you."

"Oh, you're on, Merida," you accepted.

He took 10 swings, 5 back and 5 forth, then jumped, landing in the small rocks a good 10 to 15 feet away. "Beat that," he called to you.

"Amateur," you muttered under your breath.

You did the same, and when you jumped, you felt something change and didn't land. You kept flying, knowing that after a year, you were really yourself again.

"The Angel is back!" Clint cheered. "My Angel without Wings."


	8. Show Me Light Pt 1/5 (Avengers x Reader)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Reader was captured and in the custody of Hydra for 10 years and now is literally incapable of feeling emotion

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Ah yes my depression side is showing

The people who had seen you before all this had happened were now dead by your hand. No one living had ever known who you were when you still could see light in the world. You were the only one left that could remember the person that you had been. Even if there was someone left, you would be unrecognizable to them. If you died, no light would leave your eyes--it left seven years ago when HYDRA finally broke you.

You were just eighteen but had already been in HYDRA's custody for three years. The experiments had begun immediately, but they only broke through after nearly a thousand days of torture. The powers made you lose control of yourself, replaced your very being with an unquenchable desire to kill and destroy. After the surge was over, you were left with the crushing reality of what you had done, all the lives that you had, just moments before, enjoyed ending.

The first time you displayed these powers was also the day that you snapped, and you were no longer capable of emotion. The powers seemed to negate them, and you were strangely grateful for that. Without emotions, you still realized the horror of what you had done, but you didn't spend eternity hating yourself for it. It haunted you, sure, you couldn't forget it, but you understood that it would do no good to beat yourself up.

When your powers had activated, and you had destroyed the lab you'd spent a good portion of your life in, as well as everyone in it, HYDRA had been able to find you easily afterward; you hadn't been able to bring yourself to run. It didn't help that you had been physically exhausted, but the real reason that you couldn't make yourself go was that you were in a state of shock. After years worth of pain, the experiments had finally paid off.

You had been listless when they came for you. Though the walls were all but gone, you could still trace the exact path from the holding cells to the laboratory. You sat where your cell had been, looking around at the other prisoners that you had accidentally killed. You didn't know that so many had been there with you. So you sat there, silently and emotionlessly grieving.

The next two years, they had kept you in captivity, only releasing you when they had found your triggers. When they would let you leave the compound, it would be in set locations that they wanted you to destroy. They knew your own history, perhaps better than you yourself did, and took you to obliterate places of your past.

Schools, hospitals, houses, neighborhoods, buildings, none escaped your power. Parents, siblings, family, friends, teachers, acquaintances--they were all gone. You killed them, not caring about bonds you'd had until you came out of your rage and saw their bodies.

You tried so hard to resist the triggers that activated destruction. No matter what you did, you lost yourself and power took over. You had no control over your life. Unwillingly, you had dedicated your life to HYDRA, and they were not about to let you have it back. They saw you purely as a weapon, an item that they couldn't risk losing, and you hated it.

Before they would trigger you from a safe distance, you would yell at everyone you saw to run, get out of harm's way. There was never the time, of course, but it eased your conscience somewhat to know that you had tried. Some of your old friends had been so excited to see you after five to nine years of thinking you were dead that they didn't even realize that you were warning them. The trigger chemical would kick in, and the last thing you could process was their horror-struck face as you killed them.

After five years of erasing your past, destroying everything you knew so that you had no home to return to, even if you did manage to escape, HYDRA began sending you on assassination missions. They would land you unconscious beside a building that they knew that their target would be in. As soon as the unfortunate person entered, they woke you up and triggered you before anything else could happen.

It was lucky that SHIELD found you when they did. In just a year, they had managed to find a pattern in who and what HYDRA had you destroy, and saved hundreds of people from their untimely deaths that day. You had only just woken up when you were shot with an ICER, and you were freed from HYDRA.

"She lives," a soft voice commented as you woke in a dark interrogation room.

"Do I really, though? There is a difference between surviving and living," you returned. "Who are you?"

"Director Phil Coulson of SHIELD. Now, I only know you as the Human Destroyer. Do you have a name?"

"SHIELD? So...HYDRA can't touch me anymore?"

"We'll do our best to keep you out of their reach."

"Thank you. I don't really remember my name, by the way. I've just been called Number 37 for 10 years."

"You didn't have a name on any of the HYDRA records, either. You look like a (Y/N)."

You perked up. It would have been fitting for your eyes to light up, but there was no light to begin with. "I think that's it."

He smiled. "Well, (Y/N). Do you remember anything from your life before they took you?" You told him everything that you felt comfortable with. You could tell that he knew you were holding back, but he didn't seem to want to push you if you didn't want to talk about anything. He was waiting patiently for whenever you were ready to spill.

"Director Coulson?" you asked after a short period of silence. He was jotting down some notes, but you didn't mind.

"Yes?" he responded almost immediately, finishing his sentence and looking up.

"Something I forgot to mention. They used some chemical to trigger me. I think they made sure that I didn't know what it was. I might have heard something at some point, but it's long gone from me."

"Oh. That's interesting. I wonder--" he caught the sudden pallor of your face, and assured you, "We would never test anything on you to find out."

"I don't want to blow up again. I've killed too many people against my will."

He nodded. "I can understand that. What do you want to do?"

"Me?" He nodded, a soft, encouraging smile resting on his face. "I-I don't know. I haven't had agency for a decade."

"You can do anything, provided that you stay here. We don't want to risk HYDRA getting you back." You shuddered involuntarily. As much as you were thankful to SHIELD for freeing you from mindless killing, it seemed like you were just going from one prison to another.

"You can do what you wish with me," you answered. "I don't know how to...be a person anymore."

The cruelty of HYDRA continually surprised and disgusted Phil Coulson. "What would you think of meeting some of my top agents? Making some friends?"

You shook your head. "They'd just get hurt."

"I assure you, my agents can take care of themselves."

"Not against this."

It clicked. You weren't allowed to get close to anyone when HYDRA had you. They'd likely punish both you and them by forcing you into destructo-mode and killing the person you'd befriended. Barbaric.

In a normal HYDRA experiment situation, the phrase, "They can't hurt you anymore," would be used several times. Now, however, Phil was forced to twist it. He said, "You can't hurt anyone anymore."

"I don't want to take any chances."

"I think I know who can help you," Phil stated, an idea coming to mind. "I have a couple of friends who can relate to you almost perfectly."


	9. Show Me Light Pt 2/5 (Avengers x Reader)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Who can relate better to the reader's plight than the Avengers?

You looked at the people standing in front of you, recognizing their faces from somewhere. They probably would have ended up on your hit list, eventually. Director Coulson had called them the Avengers, but warned you not to mention him around them; they were under the impression that he had died several years ago.

"Hello," you began, unsure of how all of this would go down.

"Well, if it isn't the Human Destroyer, come to join us at long last," Tony Stark greeted you sarcastically. You could tell that he wasn't a fan of this development at all.

"My gosh, Tony," Steve Rogers whispered under his breath.

You flinched, all the same, hearing the code name for you used that derogatorily. "I'd appreciate it if I never heard that describing me ever again."

"You'll never hear it from the rest of the team, but there are no promises here," Tony said.

"You say it even one time, whether to her face or not, and I will smash your head in," Bucky Barnes, the Winter Soldier, threatened. You recognized him better than the others; you'd seen him in person more than once. He probably didn't recognize you, as you were just a budding experiment then--one of the ones that had survived longer than average.

"I will be the first to volunteer to help you," Steve claimed.

"And I the second," Natasha added. You recognized her slightly more, too.

"She'd probably do it herself if we're being honest," Tony continued making stupid remarks.

"Believe it or not, Mr. Stark, I'd try my best to refrain, however inviting the idea is. I, personally, don't want to kill anyone else."

"So the Destroyer regrets?"

"You don't know anything about me, do you?" There was no emotion in your voice. The words just came out of your mouth, no meaning behind them besides what they meant by definition. You could see that a few of this group found it unsettling.

"I know enough."

"That's a dangerous thing to think. No one ever knows enough."

"Well, aren't you just the scholar?"

"I was." There was an awkward pause. "Where will I be staying?"

"Ah, yes," Steve said. "I'll show you around the compound."

"That rhymed," you interjected.

"What?" he said. As little as he knew you, he could tell that was out of character.

"Oh, just little things that used to bring me joy," you shrugged. "Let's begin this tour."

You were surprised by the amount of seemingly average technology that you didn't recognize. A lot had changed in the ten years that you'd been gone. You had a feeling that even Steve was better accustomed to this than you were.

"Thanks for the tour," you said at the end. "I think I'll just stay in my room and take a nap or something. I haven't gotten enough sleep in a very long time."

He cracked a little bit of a smile at that. "It's exactly the opposite with me. I can barely sleep anymore. Just don't miss dinner," he advised as he walked out the door. "Buck and Natasha are cooking." He closed the door behind him.

"Is that supposed to be good or bad?" you wondered out loud.

You found out at dinner. Bucky and Natasha were fantastic cooks, working together flawlessly. As they set everything on the table (they insisted that you didn't have to help), you watched from just outside the kitchen. A diamond on Natasha's left ring finger caught your eye, and you spied a matching gold wedding band on Bucky's finger. You almost smiled.

They were happy in a way that you didn't think that you could be anymore. No one in their right mind could be romantically interested in you. Instead of being caught up in your own self-pity, however, you imagined enjoying what it might be like in either of their positions. You tried to return yourself, if only for a moment, to the child-like innocence you'd had before you had ever heard of Hydra. You were a bit of a hopeless romantic, to say the least.

"So, (Y/N), tell us about yourself," Wanda Maximoff requested. You'd never seen her in person before today, but the names of the Maximoff twins had been raised to connote a standard of success. You'd had a strong impression of her before, and had been caught totally off-guard with her civility and empathy.

"I'm really not very interesting," you deflected, softly skewering another piece of chicken with your fork.

"If you're 'not very interesting,' then we're just downright boring," Natasha pushed slightly.

"As Hydra experiments go, the only thing most people care about is that I worked."

"We don't care about that at all. If we're going to be working with you, we want to know who you were before," Thor explained.

"I wouldn't want to trouble you with the antics of a 15-year-old kid. I'd honestly just bore you all to death."

"It would be better than being blown to bits by the Human Destroyer," Tony shrugged, speaking for the first time that evening.

"Please don't," you cautioned. "I barely know you, all the same, I'd rather that Mr. Rogers and Mr. and Mrs. Barnes didn't bash your head in like they promised to."

"How very considerate of you, Destructo-Pal," he thanked you sarcastically.

You got up quickly, and, conveniently having cleared your plate just moments before, put your dishes in the sink. You retreated in the direction of your room, but not leaving before complimenting the chefs. "Thank you for dinner. It was wonderful."

About halfway down the hallway, you heard the sound of something slamming against the table and a corresponding "Agh!"  
\--  
As you disappeared, Tony continued eating as if nothing had just happened. He set his fork down, and a seething Bucky took his opportunity to smack his frenemy's face into his plate.

"Agh!" Tony cried out in alarm.

"What on earth made you think that that was even a little okay?!" Bucky shouted. "We've been given a mission to rehabilitate (Y/N) to where she thinks like a normal person again and not a test subject. If you really want her to leave so bad, then treating her like the monster she feels like she is isn't the fastest way to do it."

Tony didn't respond, but rather walked over to the kitchen sink and began to wash the food off of his face.

"What do you have against (Y/N)?" Natasha demanded.

He turned to face the group, his face a little red. "Have I told any of you about Pepper's condition?"


	10. Show Me Light Pt 3/5 (Avengers x Reader)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> It's okay to be bitter but like explain yourself you know?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> When I was planning this out two years ago it was only supposed to be three parts. When I finished part 2, I realized I'd need 4. When I finished 3, I realized I needed 5

"You almost killed my girlfriend," Tony told you. "She's been in the hospital for months now because you blew the building she was in sky high."

"If she's alive, then she wasn't the target," you replied simply.

"Is that supposed to make me feel better?" he asked incredulously. "'Oh, Pepper was injured badly, but she wasn't who I was going for.' Thank you so much."

"If she was the target, then she wouldn't still be alive. They always make sure of that." A blank look of guilt rested on your face.

Tony's anger dissipated suddenly when he realized that you hated what you did as much as he did. "Count your blessings, I guess," he muttered, turning his head away. "At least she's not an immediate target of Hydra."

"As far as we know," you clarified.

He sighed and put his face in his hand. He turned his head to look at you, saying. "I am trying so hard to like you, okay, but do you realize how hard you're making it? I'm trying to put what you did behind me. It was so much easier with Barnes because he actively expressed his guilt. The look in his eyes told me just how bad he felt. But you? You just sit there, unreadable. Blank face, nothing in your eyes. Do you even feel emotion?"

You understood his frustration with you. You could almost feel his frustration with you--almost. "No."

He was speechless. That wasn't what he was expecting; he had speculated that you had developed a habit of suppressing and burying your emotions so deeply that even now, under asylum from Hydra, you couldn't find them. That definitive "no" dashed that theory to pieces. You really didn't feel anything.

"Side effect of the powers, I think," you added.

"Yeah, how do those work, exactly?" he asked. You had sparked his curious nature by taking the light off of what you had done and placing it on how you had done it.

"You know as much as I do," you shrugged. "Hydra was so secretive around me that, sometimes, I doubted that they knew how I worked."

"You could be on a timer, and you'd never know."

"I'm pretty sure that I'm not a time bomb, but thanks for your concern."

"Wow! So you don't feel emotion, but you're a total savage," Tony remarked. "You're going to be fun."

"The fun is all on your side of the room."  
\--  
Dr. Banner's side of the lab was more visibly disorganized than Tony's, but he knew where to find everything. When you had asked him to run a blood test, he had been more than happy to oblige, walking straight over to a drawer, pulling it open, and fishing out a syringe.

"Here, just give me your arm real quick..." he mumbled. You didn't bother looking away; needles didn't faze you anymore. "What do you want me to test for?"

"I just want to know if there are traces of anything irregular," you explained. "That could get us closer to finding out what triggers my powers."

His eyes lit up. "I'll tell you the results when they come out," he promised. "It should only take a few hours."

"All right. Thank you, Dr. Banner." You left quickly, meaning to go back to your room and hide for the time that you had to wait. That didn't work out.

Wanda stopped you when you were maybe ten feet from the safety of your room by touching you on the arm lightly and smiling. "I was just looking for you, (Y/N). Natasha and I are getting a group together to play a card game. Would you like to play?" she offered.

"What are we playing?" you asked uncertainly. You kind of wanted to stay away from people as much as possible, but in order to do that, you needed to be able to pass as a normal person again. Practice was key, and you weren't going to get any of that unless you interacted with these people.

"Whatever we decide on. Do you have a favorite? We probably have it. We have a lot of good games."

"Uno is always fun," you suggested, shrugging your shoulders.

Wanda grinned at you, her eyes lighting up. "It's even more fun when both Bucky and Steve play. You've never seen competition until you see them playing Uno."

"I'm sure it's quite a sight."

"You'll see. It's funny that they both get so into it that they're mortal enemies until the game ends. The loser pouts for a minute, and then they end up playing again," she giggled. "It can go on for hours. Natasha pops a few bags of popcorn, and the rest of us just enjoy the show."

She practically dragged you down the hall and tithe dining table, where Natasha was waiting. She looked up at the two of you as you took your seats.

"What are we playing?" she asked.

"Uno," Wanda answered, grinning.

Natasha smirked. "It's a good thing that our favorite senior citizens are coming down soon."

Bruce rushed into the room, holding an empty mug of coffee and his tablet. "Emergency mission. Cap sounded nervous about it. I refill my coffee, then we leave," he explained briefly. "Suit up."

"Did he want (Y/N) to come with us?" Wanda asked.

"He didn't say. I would say bring her along just in case. The worst that could happen is that he says no," he shrugged. "Oh, and there's nothing irregular in your blood, (Y/N)."

"Good to know," you nodded. You didn't really mean that. You had thought that if they had used some bizarre chemical, then Bruce would have found it and the search would be over. Now you knew that either the trigger broke down quickly...or it was natural.  
\--  
Steve smiled when he saw that you had come up with the ladies. "Do you think you're ready for a mission?" he asked politely.

"We can try it out," you agreed. "If something goes wrong, I could just be another Code Green."

Steve and Bruce exchanged glances. "The only people that should know that term live here," Steve said. "I don't think we've used it around you, yet."

"Really?" you said, raising an eyebrow. "Hydra definitely knows what that means. You're doing a terrible job of being discreet about that."

Steve's mouth hung open. "Ah," he said, not knowing exactly how to respond.

"It probably doesn't matter that much," you shrugged. "It's just one codeword, and it's one that they definitely don't like to hear."

Bruce laughed nervously. "Well, you're right about that. I definitely don't like to hear it, either."

"We don't like to say it," Natasha added.

"Don't like to say what?" Bucky asked as he walked in, reading on a tablet.

"Code Green," she answered, making her way towards him. She pushed herself up using his left shoulder and gave him a kiss on the cheek. He smiled brightly at her and pecked her lips.

Wanda giggled and squeaked, "They're just so cute!"

"They are," you agreed. "Have you ever wanted that for yourself?"

She sighed. "Of course. It's been my dream since I was a girl. But now, with powers? No one in their right mind would want me."

"Why not? You're smart, beautiful, friendly. The powers are an added bonus, if you ask me," you reasoned.

"Have you ever wanted that for yourself?" Wanda countered.

You realized what she was doing. "Always," you answered warily, "but my powers are different than yours."

"But you have the same reason that I do for thinking that it's not possible anymore," she pointed out.

"Why would anyone want anything to do with the monster Hydra triggers? You and I are very similar, Wanda, but I'm so much worse," you argued.

"I did the things that you did voluntarily," she countered. "You had no control over what you did, but Pietro and I, we did it because we wanted revenge."

"You've turned yourself around. Look at you, you're an Avenger. You're working with the people that you once tried to destroy. You've helped in taking down Hydra. You're a pretty sound role model for a kid to look up to," you listed.

"You haven't gotten the chance to be an Avenger yet. You're turning yourself around now. Don't deny yourself the right of redemption in your own eyes," she said.

"Hey, kids, can you stop arguing over which of you is the worse person?" Tony requested. "We have some Hydra butt to kick."

When had he come in? You hadn't noticed. You also were strangely surprised when he had referred to you as a 'kid.' After a little thought, though, you realized that you were only halfway through your twenties. You felt older than that.

You nodded. "I've been waiting ten years for this opportunity."


	11. Show Me Light Pt 4/5 (Avengers x Reader)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Let's let you believe in happiness for a moment

"Everybody, get out of the way!" you shouted urgently.

You could feel adrenaline coursing through your veins as soon as you saw the first Hydra agent, and then the switch of your body into your powers. You were going to make a mess, and you knew it.

You curled up into a ball, waiting to lose control, but it didn't happen. You were very much aware of what you wanted to do, but you felt so...powerful.

You stood up quickly and aimed an explosion right under an agent's feet, and the results were nearly deafening. Your arms flew up to shield your face from debris in the air at the same time that your mouth dropped open in shock.

Never before had you been able to control your powers like that.

"(Y/N)!" Steve called through the comms. "Can you hear me? Are you still in control?" When you didn't respond right away, he began to direct orders. "We've lost (Y/N). We have to find him/her, then--"

"I'm fine!" you yelled as soon as you had the sense to. "I'm still me, Captain, don't worry."

"How?" he asked, just as stunned as you.

"I don't know, but we'd better take advantage of this while it lasts," you stated. "Where do you need me?"

"You could just take out the whole base," Natasha suggested nonchalantly. "That would probably be the most helpful."

"Nat, we have three people in there, one of them being you," Steve pointed out.

"Your husband being another," Bucky reminded."

"And your best friend," Sam concluded.

"Wanda's in here?" Nat asked. You could practically hear her smirking from where she was.

"That's cold, Tasha," Sam said.

"I love you, too, Natasha," Wanda giggled.

"Do you usually banter this much on missions?" you asked, a little overwhelmed.

"We're really good at multitasking," Sam answered. "How are things going outside?"

You blew up another Hydra guard. "Well enough, I suppose," you replied. "Steve's kicking butt, Wanda's levitating butt, I'm exploding butt, and Tony...what are you doing, Tony?"

He appeared to be making rounds around the top of the building. "I'm looking for leverage from above," he justified.

"Right. Tony's flying in circles," you simplified.

"Hey!" Tony protested. Everyone else laughed.

"You're literally flying in circles," you reiterated. "You could be reading bad fanfiction about yourself, for all we know."

"It was one time!"

"You actually read bad fanfiction about yourself?" Natasha giggled. "You said just last week that you were weirded out by people writing you wrong."

"That was after I read some bad fanfiction on accident," Tony whined. "I've sworn it off since then."

Sam rushed out of the building just as you blew up another couple of enemy agents. Following him were about a half dozen of people that you didn't recognize. "I found the prisoners! Winter Widow, get out of there so that (Y/N) can blow this place sky high," he said through the comms.

"Did you just call Bucky and Natasha Winter Widow? That is so cute!" you squealed, wrinkling your nose and grinning. "That makes me so happy!" Happy? Were you really happy?

Yes! Yes, you were! You were feeling emotion for the first time in so long, and you were elated!

You began to laugh gleefully with your new realization. "I'm happy!" you giggled. "I'm really happy!" Tears streamed down your cheeks as you experienced pure joy.

Everyone else was too shocked to speak. You were no longer unfeeling and standoffish, too scared of yourself to speak. You were (Y/N), warm, welcoming, and fully in control of yourself. There was light in your eyes again, and it was so beautiful.

Two black-clothed figures dashed out of the enemy base. You thought that they were Bucky and Natasha, but you couldn't quite tell. "Winter Widow, is that you coming out?"

"Yeah, we're out. Nat and I are out," Bucky confirmed. "Light the place up, (Y/N)."

"It would be my genuine pleasure," you smiled. You waited for them to clear the blast radius, then you stepped out of the shadows and aimed a blast for the base.

It was as if someone had placed a bomb directly in the center of the building. That's how perfectly placed your shot was. It was deafening and blinding and satisfying. You felt that, finally, you had done something to tear away the part of your past that you actually wanted to erase.

You were admiring your handiwork when, suddenly, you were almost tackled to the ground by Wanda. "That was amazing!" she praised.

You were taken aback at her willingness to touch you like you were a normal person. You hadn't been hugged in so long. You hugged her back, but not so quickly. You felt normal again, but you weren't exactly used to being that way.

Joy overcame you, and tears slipped from the corners of your eyes.

"I haven't felt this way in so long," you said softly, your voice a warbling mess. You didn't really care about that though; you were feeling. You had once again joined the ranks of humans in your own eyes. Truly, this, intelligence and emotion, was what is was to be human.

Bucky wrapped his arms around the both of you, calling out, "Group hug!"

"Oh my gosh, Barnes," Natasha scoffed. "I married the biggest dork in the universe."

He met her eyes with his puppy-dog face. "But, you married him, like you said, so, you love him, right?"

She groaned. "Yes, of course, you gigantic--you know what? Never mind." She joined in with the group-hug, closely followed by almost everyone else.

"You--you guys do this often?" you choked out.

"No, why?" Steve questioned.

"Too tight," you complained, gasping for air. "Can't breathe."

Everyone released all at once, muttering their apologies. "Wouldn't want to suffocate you, now would we?" Tony chuckled.

"I feel like that might be a little detrimental to my health," you shrugged. "Just a guess, though, so..."

"I gotcha," he nodded. "Suffocating people may or may not kill them."

"Nah," Natasha dismissed. "I've choked out this guy plenty of times, and he ain't dead yet." She elbowed her husband lightly in the stomach.

"Look, Nat, that's nice, but we don't need to know what goes on with you two when you're," Tony cleared his throat, "all alone."

"No, no, no, no, not like that," Bucky said hastily, running a hand through his messy brown hair. "For sparring, we have a little game for when we get, like, insanely bored. First one to pass out loses. She always wins."

"We only actually do it because I did it on accident, once--"

"Accident," Sam huffed.

"Shut up, Birdman Jr. Anyway, I think that Buck wants his pride back, so he keeps challenging me," she finished.

"He gets close sometimes," Wanda remarked. "They're fun to watch."

"You know what else is fun to watch?" an unfamiliar voice asked. Everyone turned to face it, as the bearer of the voice grabbed you around the neck and held you to gunpoint. "That flash of fear on someone's face when you're right about to kill someone they love."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Is it weird that I imagine Hydra agents as Team Rocket Grunts from the Pokémon games?


	12. Show Me Light Pt 5/5 (Avengers x Reader)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Time to die

You froze as soon as you felt the gun pressed against your head. Your breaths shortened, and you felt your mind shifting again. You were too afraid to speak, but you tried to non-verbally tell your friends that you were about to blow.

They were too distracted to notice. They could see that the man threatening to kill you was absolutely serious about his intentions. There would be no negotiations, no "You don't need to do this." You were as good as dead unless they incapacitated him first.

"Now, now, nothing that you can do will work out to well for your little friend here," the man chided cruelly. "You've been missing too long, Destroyer," he whispered in your ear, just loud enough for the others to hear.

"Don't call her that," Bucky commanded.

"Ah, Soldier," he smiled. "I've missed you, too."

"Don't call him that," Natasha came to his rescue.

"And the Black Widow. I hear that you two are married, now? It would be a shame if you really became a widow."

You still couldn't respond. All of your energy was focused on keeping your mind.

"This is the only way that I can make sure that Hydra stays safe from this little explosive, putting it down," he continued. "I argued that it was salvageable, after all, it--"

"She's not an it!" Steve shouted. "She's a human being, unlike what you seem to be."

The horrible man just chuckled, as if the situation were incredibly amusing to him. "Captain, please, I am more human than most," he claimed.

You were beginning to recognize his voice. His higher, nasally voice had been an annoying and frightening constant in the world of your Hydra experimentation. By all means, he should have been killed when you first broke. How was he here now?

"You should be dead!" you shouted, the words tumbling out of your mouth before you could stop them.

He slammed the gun against your temple, and you fell to your knees, seeing stars when you opened your eyes again. "And why would I be dead?" he asked.

You gathered your courage, still do struggling to keep your powers at bay. "I blew you to Hades when I was eighteen," you grunted, wishing that you could hold your head where the metal had hit it. "You were standing right next to me when I went off. You're a dead man, Dr. Hoiser."

"Fortunately, I was not there. You did manage to blow my younger brother to Hades, however. All the more reason, I've realized to kill you," he stated. "Shame, really, I really did think we could get you back."

You felt his posture change, his grip on the gun shift. He was going to shoot.

"Get back!" you screamed.

An a small explosion blasted from inside the scientist's chest a fraction of a second before the gun fired. Instead of embedding itself in your brain, the bullet lodged into your side. Neither the burns on your back from the explosion nor the wound in your side from the bullet, however, effected you in the slightest, because you were the Human Destroyer.

Your warning had been the last thing that you had consciously done before fear had overcome, and your powers had fully made themselves manifest. There was no telling how long you would be out of your own control before you came back, but the Avengers couldn't see that yet.

They could feel that something was a little bit off, and so they stood their ground, waiting for you to signal that you were alright. When you looked up and met their eyes, they knew that they needed to bolt. It wasn't you that was looking back at them; those eyes weren't your own. Never had they seen such bloodlust glaring at them from human eyes. Never, even from Wanda, had they seen such an angry red glow from human irises.

They had never been more afraid for their lives.

Tony involuntarily took a step back, cracking a dry twig on the ground. It was as if he had stepped on a landmine. The ground exploded beneath him so forcefully that FRIDAY couldn't even begin to control most of his ascent. He was alright for the most part, but he wasn't the one that should have been worried about.

They should have been killed, but Wanda's quick thinking to throw up a wall had saved their lives. She hadn't been able to protect Tony, but her power had been able to shield everyone else. As soon as she could, she extended the red glow into a dome around the Avengers, minus Tony, and created a floor so that everyone inside was protected from your fury. You glowered at her and began to pace around her shelter.

"(Y/N)!" she shouted to you. When you only responded with a glare, she repeated your name more forcefully.

"Wanda, she's not herself right now," Bucky told her, placing a hand gently on her shoulder. "There's nothing you can do except for keep up behind this wall."

"No, I know that she's in there somewhere. She needs help, she needs--"

"That's nice, sweetheart, but if we try to do anything, we won't live to see whether we helped or not," Natasha insisted.

"Wanda, I need you to let the shield down for a split second on the count of three," Steve commanded out of nowhere.

"Why?"

"You're not going to like it," he summed up. "I think it might just be our ticket out of here alive."

"Steve, tell--"

"One."

"Tell me what--"

"Two."

"--you're doing!"

Steve readied his shield, and shouted, "Three!" as Wanda screamed out in frustration, doing as she was told.

You tried to take your chance while the barrier was down, but Tony's repulsor struck your chest just as Steve's shield slammed into your stomach. Wanda's barrier was up again by the time that the explosion went off.

The three deadly forces combined knocked you off your feet and threw you several yards. You hit a tree far away from everyone else and fell to the ground in a heap. You were yourself again, but not for long, as your consciousness slipped away from you.  
\--  
"(Y/N)!" Wanda called out. "Come one, you guys, we have to find her. (Y/N)!" Everyone was spread throughout the forest, looking for you. They were using their comms, hoping that yours hadn't been destroyed just in case you came to and could tell them where you were.

"Wanda, can you feel her anywhere?" Natasha asked.

"I'm trying, but I can't find her."

"She...she's dead, then?" Tony asked, sounding a little broken as he landed with the settling debris.

"No! I would have felt it if she died. She's out there somewhere, I know it," Wanda insisted, blinking back tears. "She was in there when her powers took over, too, but it was like she was asleep."

"But you're not finding her anywhere right now?" Natasha pushed.

"I can't pick her up anywhere, and I don't know why."

"I hate to say it, Wanda, but maybe she died, but there was so much going on that you didn't pick it up," Steve suggested sadly.

"No, that's not possible. A mind like (Y/N)'s...it's special. There's no way that I wouldn't have felt it."

"I found her," Tony stated urgently. "I found (Y/N)."

"How is she?" Bucky inquired immediately.

"It looks bad. Really bad," he said, landing to get a closer look at your crumpled form. "I don't know whether she's alive or not. FRIDAY, can you detect a heartbeat?"

"It's faint, but it's there," she reported. "It might not be there for much longer if we don't act quickly."

"Do what you can, Tony. I'm coming to see if there's anything that I can do," Wanda said. She was using Tony as a landmark to find you.

"You're gonna have to be fast. I don't know how much longer she'll be able to hold on," he admitted. "What are we looking at, FRIDAY?"

"Severe burns on the back, chest, and face from explosions, another burn from the repulsor beam, and more than a few broken ribs from Captain Rogers' shield and impact from either hitting the ground or a tree," she listed. "A severe concussion, as well."

"Definitely bad," Tony worried, kneeling down to try and pick you up.

As soon as one of the metal gauntlets touched your skin, you snapped back into consciousness. You screamed so loudly that you woke up roosting birds for hundreds of yards around. Wanda cringed as she heard and felt your presence again, so pained.

"(Y/N), it's just me," Tony tried to reassure you. "I'm trying to get you to help."

"No, don't," you pleaded. "It hurts so bad. So bad."

"I know, I know, but you have to trust me here. You can make it through this, you'll live to see another day if you just let me--"

"To what end?" you cried. "If I do live, they'll just keep looking and finding me until they do kill me. It's better this way. Less pain."

"You can't think like that. You're strong, you can make it. Just wait until Wanda gets here, and she can help you," he said, begging you to just stay alive.

"No, no, I can't. I won't make it until then, believe me. I can feel my body shutting down. I'm fading. Just let me go, okay?"

"I can't do that. None of us can."

"You're...you're gonna have to, looks like," you breathed out. You knew you probably weren't going to live another sixty seconds. You were slowing down. Your vision was going in and out of focus. But, wait. Was that...light? Light in the periphery? "Light," you marveled. "I can see light."

"Not okay!" Tony pushed. "Stop dying, that's not allowed!" He could feel the oncoming anxiety attack building along with the unshed tears in his eyes. "Wanda will kill me if you do."

"There's not much I can do about that," you said. "But I'm sorry, Tony, about everything." You gave a half smile, your eyes twinkling just a little. And then it went away. The light was gone.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This literally took me like a year to write


	13. Speedy Gonzales (Pietro Maximoff x Reader)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Based pretty much word for word on a dream I had

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is one of the worst things I've ever written enjoy

You were completing your morning run around the jogging track when you were nearly knocked over by a flash of silver light. You were sure at this point that he meant to trip you. On the bright side, your sense of balance had improved drastically over the last few weeks that the twins had been training here, but that didn't make it any less annoying.

"You were close that time, Sonic," you yelled to him.

He appeared next to you, scowling. "Do not insult me with that ridiculous blue hedgehog."

"Well, gosh, if you really feel that strongly about it," you chuckled. "I mean, it was just a stupid nickname."

"Yes, stupid indeed."

"Would you prefer if I called you Silver, like the hedgehog from the future?"

His scowl deepened. "What is it with you and anthropomorphic hedgehogs?"

"What is it with you and anthropomorphic hedgehogs? Why do you hate them?"

"Mostly because of Tony," he admitted. "He will not stop singing the theme song to Sonic X when I am around. It is aggravating."

"Gotcha," you responded. The nicknames from you were only lighthearted teasing; Tony's sole purpose in life was to annoy. "How about Speedy Gonzales? You have anything against Mexican mice?"

He tilted his head. "I do not know any Mexican mice by that name."

"You never watched Looney Toons?" He shook his head. "Really? What even was your childhood?"

He looked down uncomfortably. "I'd rather not answer that question if it's all the same to you."

"Right," you said, blushing. "My bad, I'm sorry."

"No," he comforted you, "it is all right. I would like to pretend that I had a happy childhood. Tell me about this Looney Toons."

"Okay," you smiled. "The main character is Bugs Bunny, a rabbit that likes munching carrots and the phrase 'What's up, doc?'" Pietro quirked an eyebrow, but you kept going. "You also have Daffy Duck, a pessimistic duck that doesn't ever really seem to be happy, and a lot of other random characters, too. It would take a while to explain."

"I have time," he responded.

"I don't even know if I can remember them all at once. The one I mentioned earlier, Speedy Gonzales, is a Mexican mouse who claims to be the fastest mouse in all of Mexico. He mostly used his super speed to steal food for himself," you tried to explain, but Pietro was a little lost.

"He does not use it to help others or go on mission-like things?" he inquired.

"Not at all. Looney Toons is a cartoon meant to make people laugh. It's just a comedy thing."

"Stealing food is considered funny, then?"

"It's not the stealing itself that's comedic, it's the way that he does it. He makes a lot of quips here and there and confuses the person he's stealing from, then makes a getaway while the person is angry."

"I can see why you relate this mouse to me. Not just the speed, but the style as well."

"Exactly. Much better than Sonic."

"Yes, thank you. Someone finally said it," he exclaimed.

"Maybe I could show you one of the cartoons sometime?" you suggested hopefully.

He brought your hand to his lips and kissed your knuckles lightly. Your heart fluttered. "Let's make it a date."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> And then I woke up
> 
> I kid you not


	14. Leave (Steve Rogers x Reader)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Angst for days

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The italics are flashes into the future rather than the past

_"This shouldn't even be a choice you have to make, Steve."_

_"I can't just let you do this."_

_"The world needs you more than they do me."_

_"But I need you more than anyone else in the world."_

_"Don't you think that I feel the same way? Get out of here, please, before I make you."_

"Ah, come on Steve, it's an easy mission. Teleport in, grab the info, teleport out. Simple," you tried convincing the man.

He wouldn't have it. "I know that you really like this teleportation stuff, but I still don't think it should be a go-to for everything. It might not be completely safe."

You scoffed. "I designed it. They've been completely flawless so far," you argued.

"Key phrase: so far. How do we know that they won't malfunction and leave you in hyperspace forever?"

"Steve, just trust me for 5 minutes, okay? Listen, after I get back, we can go out for ice cream or something together, okay? Good old pizza date?" Your words had no effect on his stoic state of disapproval. "Oh, I know! Sweet make-out sesh afterward."

His jaw dropped. You wiggled your eyebrows for extra comedic effect, and he lost it. As soon as you could get him laughing, he would agree with you.

"No, but seriously," you said as soon as you had the breath to. "Ice cream or pizza?"

"Yes," he chuckled. "Both if you're going to go through with this."

"Deal. I'll even pay for everything."

_"Please, (Y/N), I can't imagine life without you."_

_"And a lot of people back at base can't imagine life without you. Please go."_

_"I'm not leaving without you."_

You put the teleportation device meant for the return trip in your pocket and readied the device for the way there in your hand.

"I know that I've said this about 20 times, but just to be sure," you said, the mission control agents smiling at you impatiently, "I get there, go two halls down, take a left, three more halls, and the first door on the right?"

"Perfect," your little brother, the younger Agent (L/N), grinned. "Just like the other 19 times."

"Shut up, kid. You've never been on a solo mission. The nerves are worse when you're by yourself."

He nodded, accepting defeat. "Noted."

_"Don't you get it? There is no leaving with me, either! I'm a dead woman. The only way for someone to get out of here alive is for you to go."_

_"Then I'm not going."_

_"The most stubborn man in America, ladies and gents."_

_"Paired, almost ironically, with the most stubborn woman in America."_

Steve snuck up behind you. "Be safe, okay? I'm looking forward to pizza and ice cream."

"Same here. I'll be back within the hour, most likely."

"Let's not jinx that," Steve conveyed his inherent worry about you, looking for something wooden. "There isn't any wood to knock on," he whispered fretfully.

"You can just knock on your head, in that case," you whispered back. "It works just as well."

"It just doesn't feel the same."

"Speak in anti-jinxes?" you suggested.

"How does that work?"

"I'm going to fail this mission," you announced to the room loudly.

_"There is literally no reason for you to sacrifice your life here."_

_"Sure there is."_

_"Steve, I will hurt you if you say that the reason that you should is that you love me."_

_"I guess you're going to have to hurt me, then."_

Everyone in the room looked at you with wide eyes. "I'm probably going to die a ridiculously painful death," you continued. Only your brother caught on.

"Yeah," he agreed. "She messes everything up. Do you really think she's capable of something like this? Nah."

You smacked his head playfully. "Jerk," you muttered.

"It's all part of a day's work, sis."

Steve thought that he had caught on well enough to try an anti-jinx of his own. "Forget the pizza and ice cream; you're as good as dead."

In a rush, all the agents around began trying their own anti-jinxes, and negativity filled the room. "Ah, pessimism," you sighed.

_"Don't make me do this, please."_

_"Do what, doll?"_

_"This." You grabbed his collar and brought him down to your level, kissing him._

You did everything that you were assigned to do and reached into your pocket for the device programmed to return you to base. You were frozen by the sudden shock of a cold liquid splashing against your neck. After a split second of getting over being startled, you turned around to see a HYDRA agent, about as old as your brother, stashing a green plastic water pistol into his belt.

"May I ask what the point of that was?"

He drew a gun. "You'll see."

"That's my cue," you remarked and popped the device in your mouth. Nothing happened. "Crap," you whispered, tucking the device into the back of your mouth.

It seemed that you were much more experienced than this HYDRA kid, and you pushed past him and dashed into the hall. "Hey!" he shouted after you, reaching for his gun.

"Looking for this?" you quoted, waving his gun in the air. You slowed, turned, and though you hated to, you shot him in the chest. You continued running.

Three more agents turned the corner and saw you running down the halls. They recognized you; you were quite the notorious thief and had a bad habit of letting them see you, then teleporting out. You recognized a few of them, and that was not a good sign.

You turned on your heel and ran the other way, past the tech room and towards the other end of the hall. Two more agents rounded the corner, and you did the only thing that you could think of--you ran back into the tech room and hid.

_You slipped your engagement ring from your left hand into his pocket and broke the kiss._

_"I love you," you whispered, and kissed him again. You slipped the teleporting device from your mouth into his._

Well, you tried. You tripped epically over the corpse of that kid you'd shot just moments before. The HYDRA agents brought you to your feet and stripped you of your weapons, forming a circle around you.

"So before you kill me," you began, the teleportation device still tucked in the back corner of your mouth, "would someone mind telling me what the water pistol was for?"

"The fluid in the pistol counteracted the ability of your saliva to dissolve the shell around the teleportation device. All it needed to do was touch your skin, and you were grounded, so to say," a female agent gave your answer. "No more questions. Any last words?"

There was a slight sucking/popping noise, and a man appeared next to you.

The agent laughed. "There's nothing you can do, Captain," she told him. "She's stuck here."

"Steven Grant Rogers, what are you doing here?" you whispered harshly.

"You were in danger, doll. What else was I supposed to do?"

Annoyed, you brought your hand to your temple. "Give us a minute," you demanded of the 5 agents surrounding you. And so began a hushed, angry argument between your would-have-been husband and yourself.

_His eyes went wide, and he disappeared into thin air. The HYDRA agents surrounding you flipped out and opened fire. You were dead before you hit the ground._

\-- **One Week Later** \--

They'd held an honorary funeral for you, even if they didn't have a body to bury. Your brother appeared to harbor so much guilt for what had happened, but no one could figure out why. He had no fault in the event of your death. Steve also felt like it was his actions that had brought it about. In a strange way, this brought the two boys together.

A few days after the funeral, your brother was able to tell someone why he felt so guilty. He and Steve were talking about you, and he finally cracked.

"You have every right to hate me," he choked out, tears beginning to blur his vision. "I'm the reason that HYDRA ever knew how to make that liquid. I dropped a teleporter on a mission one time. If I hadn't been so careless, we might still be planning a wedding."

Steve didn't quite know what to say to this. He didn't want to blame the kid, but he wanted Steve to blame him. "Look, kid," he started. "Did you found HYDRA?"

"No," he responded, startled.

"Did you keep them alive within SHIELD over the decades?"

"Of course not."

"Have you ever considered yourself a member of HYDRA?"

"I'd die before I did," he said bitterly.

"Then there's no reason for you to beat up on yourself. Anyone could have dropped one, and it might not have been yours that they found. I don't blame you at all."

"Thanks," he sniffed. "I guess...it's just so hard to believe that she's really gone. She's gonna just show up with a tub of her (fav/flavor) ice cream and a box of pizza and tell jokes about the mission. She did that, you know. Every mission that went even a little bit wrong for either of us, she would come and crash in my room. We would binge on Disney and talk about anything. She noticed that I had the tendency to blame myself for everything, and she'd explain everything just how I needed to hear it. I can't imagine life without her."

"Neither can I," Steve admitted. "She's been such a source of light for me for so many years that I don't know where I'll find it anymore. This makes me wonder even more about the future that we could have had."

Transparent ghostly tears slipped down your intangible cheeks as you heard their hopeless words about you. You desperately wished for a chance to comfort them, but you wouldn't know what to say. You would probably just make it worse.

You kissed them both on the cheek, though neither they nor you could feel it. Then, you turned to the black-cloaked specter that was so kind in granting you the last opportunity to see your love and your brother.

"Thank you," you told it, wiping away the last of your tears. "I'm ready to go."

It did not move right away but instead spoke in a deep, resonating voice. "There are some that deserve a second chance, but I am not the one to decide these things," it explained...wistfully? The voice became constrained. "If it were up to me, you would be living still."


	15. Neighbors (Bruce Banner x Reader)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Reader meets Bruce on the train

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Every once in a while you'll come across a one-shot that's kinda strange. That's because, for a while, I was involved in a weekly one-shot contest with a title and image prompt, occasionally with a dialogue prompt. This is round one.

Train stations had always excited you. Sometimes your grandparents would come to visit via rails because they knew how much you loved waiting for the train to arrive. You'd never gone on a train yourself; your mother always told you that it was too expensive and that it took too long.

Until today.

In spite of all the common sense you had gained over the years, you still wanted to try out the Amtrak. The disappointment in your mother's voice when you asked her to pick you up at the station didn't deter you at all. You were just thrilled to finally experience the train.

You arranged for your friend to drop you off a little bit early. The train station was peaceful, somehow, despite the likely unhealthy noise levels and all the people rushing around. You liked this already.

The satisfaction was immediate the second you put your foot down on the first stair. From there, you found a seat next to a man with dark hair and glasses with his nose stuck in a scientific journal. You wanted to sit next to someone, but not anybody that would get annoying any time soon. You were going to be stuck next to them for more than a few hours.

"Do you mind if I sit next to you?" you asked him.

He looked up from his book and gave you a polite smile. "Not at all."

"Thanks," you replied, pulling out a book of your own. Something about that smile looked familiar, but you knew a lot of people. You might have seen him before, or maybe someone like him.

It was a few hours into the train ride before either of you spoke again. It was really just you yelling at a sudden plot twist in the book, a habit that you'd picked up whilst reading alone in your house. It was so quiet all by your lonesome that a little ranting didn't make you feel uncomfortable. You hadn't done anything embarrassing in public--yet.

You slammed your book shut on your hand as you read the words that changed everything. "What?" you growled in disbelief. "Brandon Sanderson, I swear that I will murder you in your sleep."

The man next to you looked up in surprise. "You alright there?"

Your cheeks flushed red when you realized that you had, in fact, said that out loud. "Oh, um, it's just a plot twist. I'll get over it. Probably."

He gave you another one of his smiles. "I can relate. What are you reading?"

"The Rithmatist. It's really good. It's just messing with my mind."

He chuckled softly. "That's how you know a book is worth the read."

"So true," you agreed, giggling a bit yourself. "I'm (Y/N), by the way. (Y/N) (L/N)."

"Bruce Banner," he replied, offering you his hand. You shook it.

"This'll probably sound a little weird, but you look familiar. I can't put my finger on it, but I'm pretty sure that I've seen you before."

"A lot of people say that. I have a pretty generic face," he responded cautiously. If you realized who he was, or more, what he turned into, you might not want to sit next to him anymore. He was liking you already.

"If you say so," you shrugged. "Where are you from?"

"Dayton, Ohio. You?"

"How crazy!" you grinned. "That's where I grew up."

"Oh, really? Where?"

"A little neighborhood called Dove Creek. Kinda by an elementary school. You probably haven't heard--"

"No, no, I know exactly where that is. I lived there, too. Bismarck Street."

"What a coincidence. We lived on the same street. My house number was 486," you supplied.

"Mine was 488."

"We were next-door neighbors? I guess that's why you looked familiar."

He was more relieved than he thought that he'd be at the fact that you didn't recognize him for his green, angry side. "It just goes to show you how small this world really is. It is weird that we lived next to each other, but didn't even know the other's name."

"It's not like we were totally antisocial. Did that sweet Cambodian lady bring you the vegetables from her garden?"

His face brightened at one of the pleasant memories. "Every once in a while. How about the guy with the cherry tree in his backyard?"

"Best cherries ever," you commented, making the classic "okay" sign with your hand. "Did you ever see me and my brothers climbing the trees in our backyard?"

"That was you?" he asked incredulously. "Those trees were huge!"

"Tallest in the neighborhood," you bragged. "When we moved in, you couldn't even see them from the front yard."

The two of you didn't speak for a few moments, reminiscing solitarily.

"Gosh," Bruce broke the silence. "We were living right next to each other all that time, but never once spoke to each other."

"If it really bothers you, we still have quite a bit of time left until I'm getting off. And even after that, we could remain in contact."

"How would you like to go grab some food or something sometime?"

"I think that would be lovely."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This one-shot won the round of the contest it was entered in, by the way. I don't know why lol it lowkey sucked (yes I do) (mine might have sucked but oh my gosh mine was by far the least sucky out of all the entries)


	16. Can You See Me from Way Out There? (brother!Peter Parker x Reader)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Round 2 of that contest. Reader is Peter Parker's twin sister

Your twin brother confided in you for everything, and you came to him with all of your problems. There were no secrets between you and Peter, not even Spider-Man. Heck, especially not Spider-Man. He knew that he could never hide something like that from you.

You were there for him to ease the confusion when he started developing his powers. The moment that he described how much responsibility he felt to protect others with these new abilities, you understood exactly what he was thinking, and jumped right onboard to make him able to do what he needed. You helped him make his first suits and aided in the design of his webs. He often told you that he couldn't have been where he was now without your support, but you often just brushed the compliments off with a laugh.

"It's all part of being your twin," you'd remind him. "I can't very well let you deal with this by yourself."

When Uncle Ben was killed, it was horrible for everyone, but you could tell how hard it was on Peter. He felt so much guilt, and nothing you said or did could make him believe that it wasn't his fault. You did the only thing that you could when it became too much for him--you sat on his bed with him and hugged him while he cried, shedding tears of your own.

Just when things were starting to seem normal again, Tony Stark and the torn-in-half Avengers had to butt in and mess your lives up again. Tony had wanted Peter to go to Germany with him, but he'd initially declined on the basis of two issues; firstly, he had homework, and secondly, he couldn't very well leave you behind.

You had smiled at his words but insisted that he go without you. "I'll be fine alone," you had assured him. "Just take some good quality pictures, and I'll be perfectly content."

It pained you to see him go, though. You could tell that he was insecure about the whole thing, very eager to impress the more experienced heroes. You could only imagine the kind of trouble that his mouth would get him into.

He came home with a black eye. While your Aunt May took pity on him and coddled him a little, you appeared to be frankly unimpressed. Some might have said you were a little annoyed. That was just your surface. Peter knew just how ticked you were.

The amazing thing about having known each other for your whole lives was that he knew that you weren't angry at him so much as the people that had dragged him into the fight. You knew that he faced danger every time he went out to help people. It was the fact that neither side of the fight could be pegged as either good or bad. You couldn't direct your anger towards one specific person, or group, so you were mad about the whole situation.

You couldn't believe the nerve of that Stark guy when he invited Peter to train with the remaining non-fugitive Avengers, which were few in number. After the first of his training sessions, your brother was all too excited to tell you that you were invited to train as well.

He went on and on when you were on your way to your first session together about how he'd managed to convince Mr. Stark to let you come. You'd only paid attention to his story the first time, but you were thankful to receive some instruction on how to defend yourself from some of the finest in the art.

"I still cannot believe that you answered to 'Underoos,'" you teased one day after training at the compound. The both of you had gone to get ice cream afterward, agreeing that you deserved it.

"I still cannot believe that Mr. Stark told you that," he muttered in response.

"Pete, you know that I would have found out eventually. Nothing gets by me," you said, tapping your temple playfully.

"Here's where I would probably vengefully comment that I know, but the thing is," he chuckled, "I'm so grateful that nothing does. We might not be having this conversation, otherwise."

You both went silent, eating your ice cream and walking arm in arm. The silence gave way to soft footsteps behind you--more than one pair. The steps weren't casual, but extremely deliberate. They were intentionally following you. You and your brother exchanged glances of a little concern, but they quickly changed into confidence. You had been training with the Avengers for a few months now; you could kick these guys' butts.

Peter heard the quiet click of a handgun, and his eyes widened. "They're armed," he whispered to you frantically.

"We can take them," you insisted. "You have your webs on you, right?"

"Always do. You have yours?"

"I only take them off to sleep and shower. You know this."

"And you know that I do the same, but you still asked."

You opened your mouth, ready to say something clever, but closed it upon finding no words. "Touché."

You slowed your pace in order to allow whoever was following you to catch up. They were under the impression that they were taking you, two helpless teenagers, by surprise, when in reality, you were more prepared than they were. The steps became closer, faster, and louder.

When they were within your range, you turned and attacked. You took a split second as you threw your first punch to assess the people badly attempting to sneak up behind you. There were two men, and they didn't appear to be organized; they were probably just a couple of random muggers that thought they could score something off of Spider-Man and his sister. Boy, were they wrong.

Granted, they didn't know who exactly they were going after. You had to cut them a little slack, but refusing to do so made the situation, however serious, seem rather funny.

The men were caught by surprise, almost needless to say. Your punch hit the taller of the two square on the nose, effectively breaking it. Peter had gone for the literal sweep-him-off-his feet tactic. Your guy, unfortunately, had only been angered by your action. Peter's stayed down for a second, stunned.

You were charged, and instead of running, you stayed still, sidestepped at the last second, and tripped him. He fell hard on his face, which could not have felt good at all. Peter's guy got up, but before he could really do anything, he was back on the sidewalk again, courtesy of your brother.

There was only one complication. In the time that he'd taken to recalibrate himself, the man that Peter had taken on had readied his gun. Hitting the ground a second time had startled him into squeezing the trigger, sending a shot through the air.

You fell.

Time stopped.

Horror took over Peter's being as he realized what had just happened. He webbed the two assailants to the ground. He rushed to your side, hoping for the best, and expecting the worst.

He got the worst. You were gone before you hit the pavement.

He called the police and explained more or less what had happened. He threw in a bit about Spider-Man coming, but the hero had been only just too late.  
\--  
Peter opened his small window in his bedroom, letting in some much-needed fresh air. He looked out into the barely-visible stars, searching for some sign. The only problem was that he didn't know what he was looking for. Perhaps just proof that the heavens were out there.

"H-Hi, (Y/N)," he choked through the tears that were already coming. "I don't know if there really is an afterlife, or if it's even in the sky. I guess that it's just the easiest the imagine you up in the sky, free of care."

He paused a moment, wanting to go on without anything to say. He cried freely, tears dripping down his face, landing on concrete a few stories below. "You would have liked the service, I think, even though funerals are definitely not your thing. It was nice, as funerals go. The Avengers, or, what's left of them, I guess, they were there. That's the only part you would have liked.

"I know that it's kinda ridiculous that I'm talking to balls of gas billions of light years away, but it's comforting to think that someone might be listening, you know? I guess I really just have one question if you're listening."

He stopped again, almost unable to force any more words out.

"Can...can you...see me? From way out there?"

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I lost this round but here's the thing--I alternated winning and losing just about every week so I feel like the mod just wanted to spread the joy of winning (I did win more than I lost though)


	17. Look Me in the Eyes (dad!Phil Coulson x Reader)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Right after the fall of SHIELD, reader gets separated from the team.

"Hey, you alright?" You looked up from where you were glaring holes into the guest room wall at the hotel room to face your father, Phil Coulson.

You couldn't bring yourself to be sad. You hated being sad, so your go-to emotion was always anger. You didn't inherit your father's level-headedness. "Just peachy, Dad," you replied, returning to your death stare.

"I can tell, kiddo." He sat next to you on your bed and put his arm around your shoulders, drawing your closer to him. You felt your anger dissipating and obligingly leaned your head on his shoulder. He planted a kiss on the top of your head.

"He messed with us. He told Skye that he loved her and did...the thing with Agent May..." you trailed off, and you could have sworn your father was chuckling at you for your discomfort with saying it straight out. You were silent for a few seconds, not sure if you were ready to say this out loud. "He kissed me, Dad."

He turned to look at you, his eyes wide with shock. "He did what?"

You could feel your anger rising again. "He kissed me. That's the first time I've ever been kissed, you know that? And it was all fake!" You hit your fist on the bed in your outburst. Breathing hard, you clenched your fists and let the tears fall.

Phil looked ready to punch the bed himself, but his currently erratic emotions were calmed when the tears dripping down your face caught his eye. This surprised him more than anything, even the fact that the traitor Grant Ward had stolen your first kiss; you hated crying. It gave you the worst headaches that would last for hours, and it made you feel worthless and weak, no matter how much science, your friends, and yourself told you that it was healthy.

What many would call "releasing" the pent up emotions from the past however many years didn't make you feel the slightest bit better. It made you feel a hundred times worse. Your worst self-doubts were amplified, any guilt or embarrassment you ever felt crashed down on your shoulders, and you just cried harder.

There was no reasoning with you when you were this way. All that your father could do was to hug you, tracing your spine and rubbing circles in your back, waiting for your head to finish punishing you for being you. This was how he conveyed his love for you, and how you felt it.

As you began to calm down, you pulled away from him, resting your body against the wall. "Thanks," you whispered. "I'm sorry about that."

He cracked a smile. "There's nothing to be sorry about. It's all part of the job description. You want me to grab an ibuprofen for you?"

You nodded, your head already pounding mercilessly. "I love you, Dad."

His smile widened. "Not as much as I love you, (N/N)."  
\--  
"Fitz-Simmons, I'm going with you," you told them.

"Did Coulson approve that?" Simmons asked skeptically.

"Of course. He knows that I can take care of myself. I learned from the best, after all." They still didn't believe you. You sighed turned toward your father, who was walking toward the jump jet. "Dad, I'm allowed to go with Fitz-Simmons, right?"

"I already told you that you could go. Do they not believe you?" he responded immediately.

"Nope."

"Well, be safe you three."

You found your home away from home without much trouble, and you volunteered to take the initiative and board the Bus. "I'll be back in a few. Don't come after me," you commanded.

"Wait, (Y/N)! We need--" Simmons tried to stop you, but you were too far gone. "To contact...your...father."

"No point," Fitz stated. "Let's just tell Coulson that we found it."

"Right," she agreed and held the phone up to her face. "Sir, we found the Bus. It's on an airfield outside Abel Santamaría packing up to leave."

"We're on our way. How far is that from our location?" he asked, a little hopeful to finally have his plane back.

"3 hours," Simmons supplied, "but by the looks of it, they'll be long gone by the time you can get here, sir."

"Get out of there," Phil ordered suddenly, his hopes dashed. "Right now. Do not engage. Wait for us back at the jump jet." He made to hang up but was stopped by Simmons.

"One more thing, sir."

"And that is?"

"(Y/N) has already boarded the Bus," she told him, an edge of caution in her voice.

"She what? I swear, that girl! Get her out of there. Then proceed as I said before." He hung up.

"Copy that, sir," she finished, closing the phone in dismay. She took her binoculars out and spied at the men entering and exiting what had become their home. Fitz did the same.

"(Y/N) continually amazes me," she commented. "She's managed to slip on entirely unnoticed. How are we going to get her out of there?"

"We're not. There's no way."

"She took a quarter with her, didn't she?"

"I think so. Wait, what's that shiny--you have got to be kidding me. She dropped it." He sighed loudly. "Of course she did. She's (Y/N)."

"Maybe we could send one of the dwarves after her?" Jemma suggested.

"Genius. I'll go get one." He made to round a corner, but behind it was none other than Grant Ward.

"Long time, no see."  
\--  
You snuck around the Bus, making sure not to run into anyone. If they did, they would have a whole 'nother thing coming. You'd stashed two Hydra traitors in Ward's old bunk already. They'd have one heck of a headache when--if--they woke up.

Suddenly, the lights flickered and you began to hear shouting. You rounded a corner slowly, and you saw Fitz and Simmons being taken out of the room. Fitz made eye contact with you and smiled with a brief nod, trying to convince you that all would be well, despite the situation he was in.

You spied on Ward and that one girl with the flowery dresses--Raina--crouched around John Garrett. You couldn't hear what they were saying, but once you did, it was something that alarmed you.

Garrett told Ward to go finish off Fitz and Simmons. He hesitated.

"That's not a weakness, is it?" he whispered. Despite his weakened state, he still had an effect on Ward.

"No," he replied and tried to leave.

"Don't even think about it, Ward," you called to him as he began to exit.

He froze in his tracks, and after a second, he turned only his head to look back at you. "Of course you're here, too. It's not a party without a Coulson, is it?"

"Never was, never will be. Now turn around and look me in the eyes." He slowly turned but refused to make any eye contact. "Why?" you asked simply.

"Does it matter? It already happened."

"It matters to me. I want to know if you're just heartless and played us all or if this hurts you as much as it hurts us."

"You're admitting to being hurt?"

You rolled your eyes. "Why lie? I've always been honest with you."

"Come on, (Y/N), there's no need to turn this on me."

"Are you even listening to yourself? Why do you think I'm talking to you? To confess my sins to Father Francis?"

"You had to bring Shakespeare into this," he noted, shaking his head slightly.

"I'm surprised that you got that one, Ward, but I know what you're trying to do. Stop. What you did is unforgivable. You can't charm me anymore," you glared.

"You should smile, (Y/N). You're so much prettier when you do."

"Shut your mouth, or some bullets might find their way in there."

"Just take care of her already!" Garrett complained from the floor, breaking up your hateful bickering.

His words were not directed at Ward, however. Raina had been making her way around to get behind you, and finally having brought up her courage, she shot you in the back of the head with an ICER.  
\--  
"You're going to regret this hardcore, my former friend." You were struggling to keep your eyes open. They'd kept you loaded with ICER dendrotoxin so that you wouldn't annoy them so much. Garrett had been in favor of just killing you and getting that over with, but either Grant still cared for you somewhere in that stone-cold heart of his, or he wanted to use you against your father, so he'd vouched to keep you alive. You forced your eyelids open enough to get a glimpse of what was going on around you. "You too, Señor Loco. Hi, Mike."

"(Y/N)," he acknowledged you.

Since there was no way that you could stand, you were cuffed to some guardrails in a sitting position.

Suddenly, Garrett received a phone call. He turned to Mike, saying, "It's your handler, probably to tell me what the soldiers are seeing." He answered the phone. "Yeah?" His eyebrows raised in interest. "Skye. You sound different on the phone. Huskier."

You inhaled sharply. They were here. Maybe this would be the end to all of this Clairvoyant nonsense.

"No, I'm not too concerned," Garrett said, responding to whatever Skye said. "You see, if anyone but the assigned handler gives a directive to one of my men, well, kaboom." He paused again. "Phil's around? Great. We actually have a lot to talk about." Your blood ran cold. You had every ounce of faith in your father, but this man was entirely off-the-rails crazy. "Oh, and I wanted you to know--your scientist friends, they were brave until their last breath." He hung up.

"What did you do to them?" you growled.

Garrett ignored you entirely, talking instead to Ward. "Raina told me how special Skye is. I know you've seen that from the start. You want orders? Get her."

"Thank you." Ward left. You wanted to scream at him to get his sorry butt back to you so that you could show him exactly what you felt, but you reasoned that May was there; she could hurt him a hundred times worse than you could.

"He's always been a tender heart," Garrett commented to Mike. He was still set on ignoring you. "You don't need to be set to default. You haven't left me alone all day."

"I was told to never leave your side, sir."

"I love you, too."

You heard Trip's noisemaker from a distance, a sound that warmed your heart every time. "Hey-ho, friends! The enemy approaches. Check the perimeter. Careful, now, or they'll win the day."

You laughed from your position. You were regaining control of your limbs and were fully awake now. "That's always going to be my favorite of Trip's toys," you chuckled.

Your dad walked into the room, and you sat up straight. This made you both nervous and excited. It was a moment of truth. Would he be able to rid the world of Mr. Insanity over here, or would you be left fatherless--again?

Phil made eye contact with you but kept his focus entirely on Garrett. "Hi, John," he greeted, landing a solid punch to the face.

He took a moment to recover. "Hi, Phil." He hit him so hard that he flew into the next room.

"Dad!" you cried out in horror.

"Oh, don't worry, sweetheart," Garrett "comforted" you, crouching down and stroking your cheek. "He's survived worse than a measly little punch."

You turned your head quickly and bit his fingers. He shouted in surprise and pain. "Don't touch me, and don't you dare call me sweetheart."

He probably would have retaliated, but your father walked back into the room with none other than Nick Fury.

"Well, heck," Garrett marveled. "When was the last time anyone saw a tag-team wrestling match with four dead guys?" You snorted.

"I only see one dead guy in here," the older Coulson deadpanned. You began laughing loudly. Your and your father's senses of humor were very similar.

"Oh, the power's all on this side of the room, fellas," Garrett said confidently. "Phil, I'm surprised you'd try and stop me. Of course, I don't blame you, Nick. You haven't seen the big picture, the big bang, the timeless frozen ocean, but Phil here has. We share a bond. We're blood brothers."

"You didn't tell me he'd gone this crazy," you heard Fury say to your dad.

"He's really stepped it up a notch," he agreed.

"He's stepped it up about 27 notches," you added. You earned a laugh from your father.

"She really takes after you," Fury noted.

"You remember that speech you used to give us, Nick, about how one man can accomplish anything once he realizes he can be something bigger?" Garrett interjected, drawing attention back to himself. "Well, now I am."

"A part," Fury corrected. "'A part' of something bigger."

"Is that how it went?"

"Not a great listener," Phil chided.

"If you tell me this whole Hydra path thing you took is because you misheard my dang 'one man' speech, I am the key to the future of the universe."

"I'm the origin of all things," Garrett boasted, falsely, you would have added.

"You got it, right?" Fury asked your dad.

"Totally. Loud and clear." The only thing better than (Y/N) Coulson plus Phil Coulson sass was Fury plus Phil Coulson sass. You'd never gotten a chance to see (Y/N) plus Fury sass in action.

"Fury was teaching us something you didn't want to hear, John, 'cause you only think about yourself," Phil said. "That's the difference between your side and our side and why we're always gonna win."

Garrett gave a signal to Deathlok, and he took aim at your father. You clenched your jaw and your fists, praying that you weren't about to lose your father a second time. "What lesson, Phil? Please, enlighten me," he requested.

Without warning, Mike turned and fired at Garrett. As he lay in a smoking heap, the newly independent man marched toward his former captor.

"You can't do this, Mike," he pleaded from the floor. "I order you to stand down! You must obey me! You need me to translate the words of creation. You don't want to do this, Mike. Tell him, Phil!" You cocked your head in confusion. Why was he asking your dad for help in not being killed? He had no right to do that.

"Mr. Peterson's free to do whatever he wants," he responded.

Mike stomped on Garret's face, ending his life. Everyone was silent except for your quiet cheering. "Take that, jerkface!"

"You think he learned his lesson?" Fury asked.

"He learned something," Phil said honestly.

"Yeah, he learned that an angry dad is the most lethal creature that the universe will ever know."

The two men chuckled. "Let me help you with that, (N/N)," your dad offered, bending down and hugging you. "I'm so glad that you're all right."

"Yeah, I'm glad that you are, too. I've lost you once, and I don't think that I could lose you again," you admitted. "I, uh, I would have gotten out of the handcuffs myself, but I've been under the effects of the ICERs for so long that my fingers aren't really responding."

He finished with the cuffs and pulled you into a standing position, but you swayed and almost fell over. "Woah, there. You gonna be okay?" he checked, adjusting himself so that he could support you.

"My legs aren't all there yet, either, I guess."  
\--  
"Your attempt to cross off Fitz and Simmons failed, but Fitz may never be the same again," your father seethed. "So I'm going to invent new ways to ruin the rest of your life. And we'll do whatever's necessary to get Hydra intel from you, but your torture--that's gonna be internal."

"And a little bit external," May interjected. You smirked, letting out a bit of a giggle. The two of you made eye contact. You were leaning against the railing, still regaining strength in your legs.

"Sure. Some of that. But you devoted your entire life to a deranged narcissist who never gave a darn about anyone, and now he's dead. You've got the rest of your life to wrestle with the question--who are you without him?"

Ward remained silent, as was expected, fractured larynx and all. But he mouthed one word: Myself.

Then he attacked. He broke free of the two guards holding him and launched himself at Coulson. He got his hands on a gun, and as you and May moved to assist the guards in restraining him again, two shots rang out.

Blue faded into the pale color of Ward's skin, and red seeped onto the floor from your stomach.

"(Y/N)!" Phil called out in alarm. He dropped to the ground next to you, holding you close.

"That was not pleasant in the least," you groaned.

"Don't even try to play this down."

"Oh, sure, and have your last impression of me be complaining? I'd rather not."

"Who ever said that this would be a last impression? Come on, (Y/N), you sound like you're giving up."

"Ah, come on, Dad. When was the last time a Coulson ever gave up? I will not be the first," you stated. You chuckled a little, but that gave way to coughing. Blood sprayed from your mouth onto the inside of your elbow. "Oh, because that's not disgusting."

"Look me in the eyes, (N/N), okay? You can pull through." You had a feeling that he was trying to convince himself more than you.

"I don't know, Dad. I'm clocking out, here." Your breathing was becoming more labored, and you were so tired. A nap sounded good right about now.

"(Y/N), no. You are not allowed to say that." He turned to everyone else in the room, who were too stunned and horrified to do anything. "We have to get to the plane. Let's go."  
\--  
"She's a lot like you, Phil. She'll pull through," Fury said, putting a hand on his shoulder.

"This reminds me too much of what happened to Skye. I couldn't lose her, and I definitely can't lose (Y/N)."

"Just like we couldn't lose you."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is the beginning of my obsession with Coulson having a daughter. I guess it stems from my dad looking and acting a lot like Coulson does


	18. What Are You Reading? (pre-war!Bucky Barnes x Reader)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> I realize now that Bucky was a straight-up nerd but I thought this was in character at the time

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This was round three of the contest, which I won

Steve wasn't feeling particularly well, and that was a problem. He had about 5 books due to the library that day, and he wasn't capable of returning them himself. This left Bucky to return them for him.

Libraries were definitely not his thing. He was all for going out dancing with some stranger girls, but being stuck for a few minutes in a place filed to the brim with printed words? Out of the question. He couldn't deal with the suffocating silence of the places. Yet, there he was, walking down to the library.

He stepped inside the big wooden double doors, and he was immediately overwhelmed by the lack of noise. He looked around for where he was supposed to drop the books of, and when he saw nothing, he searched instead for a front desk. Nothing, no one; not even someone to talk to. He swallowed and treaded deeper into the forest of bookshelves.

It was a few minutes of slowly creeping farther down the aisles before he saw someone else. A beautiful woman, about his age, with her (H/C) hair neatly pinned up, her dress pressed perfectly, sat alone at a small table, leaning over a book. He was enchanted.

He sat next to you, and asked you quietly, "What are you reading?" It was as good a conversation-starter as any.

Not even looking up, you simply raised the left side of your book for him to see.

"'Rebecca,'" he read out loud. "Sounds good. What's it about?"

You raised the right side of your book, and he got up from his seat and walked to the other side of the table to see it. He read that out loud, too. As he got into the second paragraph of the blurb, you became fed up enough with his slow reading that you shut your book firmly.

"Can you not read silently?" you whispered passive-aggressively.

He looked into your annoyed (E/C) eyes with a whole new level of admiration than before. "I-I'm sorry," he stammered. "I just have a habit of reading out loud when I'm with people, so they know when I'm done."

"Anyone with any manners would stay quiet when other people are trying to block out the world," you huffed. You opened your book again, quickly found your spot, and shut him and his lame excuses out.

He wouldn't stop staring at you, though, and it was rather unsettling. People had found you to be attractive before, but not to this standard. You eventually became so distracted by his steady gaze that you once again closed your book and whispered, irked, to him.

"What do you want?"

"I just couldn't help but notice how pretty you are," he explained.

"You're so sweet. Really, though, what do you want? Boys like you don't usually find their way this far into a library."

"Well, that's not very nice," Bucky said in a mocking tone. "I'll have you know that I'm returning some books that I got last week."

"For who? It certainly couldn't have been for yourself."

"Now you're just being plain mean."

"If they really were for you, which one was your favorite?" you tested him.

He picked a random book from the middle of the stack and held it out to you, proud. "'And Then There Were None.'"

You gave him a fake smile, still not buying his act. "Ah, yes. That only just came out a few years ago. Who was your favorite of the people on the island?"

"Well, I-I can't decide. I liked all of them," he answered, keeping a façade of intelligence.

"Oh, come on," you teased. "You must have at least disliked a few of them. I don't think that I'd get on with Ms. Smith very well personally," you tested him.

"Now that you say it, I didn't like her much, either."

You stood up quickly and gathered your books. "There was no Ms. Smith." You turned around to find somewhere else to sit.

Panicking, he grabbed your hand and shouted, "Wait!"

"Mister...ah, whatever your name is, this is a library. Quiet, please," you warned him. You yanked your hand away from his and continued walking away.

He stood up, too, and followed you. "I'm James. James Barnes."

"I didn't ask." You sped up.

He matched your pace. "Well, I am. What's your name?"

"Why do you need to know? Leave me alone, please."

"You're the most beautiful woman I've ever seen, that's why. Please, what's your name?"

"Come back next week at about this time, having read this," you handed him one of your books, 'Emma,' and continued, "and then I'll tell you. Now go return your friend's books. There's a cart when you walk in."

Bucky went back home, unable to shake the thought of you. Your ability to not only resist, but rebuff his charms entirely was strangely attractive. He wanted to get to know you, but he didn't want to read the book at all.

Despite his nature, he opened the front cover and read the first few lines. After that, he threw back his head and groaned, but continued reading.

It was safe to say that Bucky Barnes was head-over-heels for you.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Oh wow I just remembered that this was supposed to be a multi-part series but then I decided against that because I had no inspiration


	19. Malfunction (Tony Stark x Reader)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Cats suck and you can't convince me otherwise

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Yeah this is based much more loosely off of another dream I had, but trust me when I say that the dream was much, much stranger

"Do you like it?" Tony asked nervously. The blue and silver suit was either a hit or miss with you and your overwhelming claustrophobia.

"I-I--um," you tried to reply, your voice shaking. Your breaths were becoming heavier, the already tight space closing in on you.

"I knew it," he said dejectedly. "I'm sorry, (Y/N). I just thought it would be cool to have you up there next to me."

"No, no, it'll just take some getting used to," you tried to assure him. Claustrophobia crippled you severely, but your fear of heights was non-existent. Flying around in one of Tony's suits had appealed to one side of you, but terrified the other. "I think I'd be better if my face wasn't covered." As you said the words, the silver and blue helmet mask folded back into the suit, and you found that you were slightly relieved.

"Better?" FRIDAY checked.

"Much. Thank you."

"All in a day's work, miss."

"Okay," you exhaled, placing your arms akimbo. "Let's just walk around a little bit."

"Whatever you want," he encouraged. He got into his suit, for good measure, and tried to intertwine his fingers with yours, but you were still a novice. After a few awkward moments of failed attempts to hold hands, he instead offered you his elbow, which you gladly took.

He took graceful strides, while your steps were uncoordinated and clunky. You must have looked like quite the pair, walking around the lab levels of the Avengers tower. 15 minutes later, you'd decided that you'd had enough for one day, and the two of you put your suits up.

"How was it?" Tony inquired hopefully. "Not too bad?"

You kissed his cheek, and gave him a small grin. "Not too bad at all."  
\--  
A black cat that a certain blonde Asgardian liked to keep in his room had one goal every night: escape Thor's quarters and get into the lab. The lab was an exciting place for a feline such as himself. Plenty of shiny things to stare at, play with, break, or just plain knock over.

Over the course of a week, you and Tony had been working on getting more used to the suit. You'd expressed your interest in flying, and he was right behind the effort to get you ready to. He was so excited, in fact, that he'd been tweaking little things in the display and other details, anything to make you more comfortable.

He'd fallen asleep on the work table that night, glasses still on his face and precision tools in his hand. The suit was still out in the open instead of put where the cat couldn't get it, and Lokitty, as Thor called him, took full advantage of the opportunity.  
\--  
Today was the day. You were ready. Suppressing the claustrophobia had become almost second nature, though it was certainly still there. As you readied yourself to fly for the first time, you confided your last remaining fears in Tony.

"So, I, uh, just let the suit do its thing?"

He chuckled lightheartedly. "FRIDAY'll take good care of you. Or, at least, she'd better."

"Never fear, the AI is here," you muttered.

"And I always will be, Miss." You and Tony both laughed at FRIDAY's characteristically impeccable timing. "Now, are you ready to go?"

"As ready as I'll ever be. Let's do this thing."

Flying was just as exhilarating as you had imagined. Though you couldn't physically feel the wind around you or anything else that would assumedly accompany soaring through the air as you were, you experienced true freedom up in the sky, away from the irksome troubles of man.

You closed your eyes to better pretend that you were doing this by your own powers. It was like jumping off a swing, but staying suspended. Nothing around you changed, but you could sense panic around you as, unbeknownst to you, the jets in your boots flickered, and you began to fall.

Your eyes snapped open.

"Tony! What the heck is going on?! I'm falling! That's definitely not supposed to be happening! Tony?" You weren't getting any response. "Tony?"

The sudden failure of your boots had catalyzed a chain reaction of system shutdown. The arc reactor was still working just fine, but the power that it was supplying was getting nowhere. The communication lines were down.

"(Y/N)? (Y/N), answer me! What's going on?" Tony worried, rushing down to stop your fall. He didn't know what was happening, either. "FRIDAY, can you get through to her?"

"I've been shut out from the system entirely, sir. Her boots failed, and in only a matter of seconds, I had no control."

He swore under his breath and torpedoed down to see if he could catch you. He blinked, and your suit turned gray and more bulky. The situation was all too similar to one just a few years ago.

No. He wasn't going to let that happen to you.

Wiring in the lining of the armor around your stomach busted. Small, smoking pieces of metal debris embedded themselves into your stomach. Your legs drew up to your midsection instinctively, and you continued falling like a cannonball.

After what seemed like too long, Tony caught up with you, and the force of slamming down into his arms knocked the breath out of you. He got you quickly to the top of the tower, where he tore the suit off of you, piece by piece.

"(Y/N), you're going to be fine, okay? Are you listening?" he asked, almost as panicked as you were.

In your extremely shocked state, it was all you your do to give a small nod. You were shaking violently all over. All you wanted was a warm hug and your boyfriend telling you that everything was okay. He couldn't do that, though, and still be truthful. There was no certainty in anything regarding your life at the moment.

Tony uncovered your stomach and gasped at the amount of blood that he saw. He was having a panic attack of his own and was having trouble keeping himself in the present. His hands shook as he lifted your bloodstained shirt to see various burns and cuts littering the skin of your stomach.

"Oh, gosh, no," he whispered.

That was when your body decided that enough was enough, and you passed out cold. "Heck, no," he said, more frantically. He picked you up and carried you into the building, where he cried out, "Banner! FRIDAY, tell Banner that I need his help."  
\--  
You woke hours later in a dimly lit room. The darkness of the window panes clued you into the fact that it was very late. Your whole body ached, especially your stomach and ribs, and except for your left hand. It was warm.

You looked over at it and realized why it didn't hurt. Tony had fallen asleep holding it. The thought filled you with comfort, and you could almost imagine that you weren't in so much pain.

You weren't about to wake him up, so you relaxed, waiting for sleep to come again. It didn't, but you were given plenty of time to think of all the ways that would be best to convince Tony that this wasn't his fault. He was probably blaming himself in his dreams right then, and that had to stop.

It was about an hour or so past daybreak when Tony woke to your thumb gently caressing the back of his hand.

"(Y/N)? How are you feeling?"

"Fine," you lied. "My stomach hurts, but that's it."

"You have quite a few broken ribs, second and third-degree burns on your stomach, and you had to have a few stitches where debris from the suit was embedded."

"Tony--"

"I know, I know. It wasn't my fault."

"You've accepted that quickly. What's made you believe that so fast?"

"It was Thor's stupid cat," he said darkly.

"That makes sense." He hated the cat with a passion, and blamed everything he could on it. You knew the cat's habits, so you understood that he wasn't just saying that it was its fault. "I'll help you plot against Lokitty," you backed him, giving his hand a squeeze.

He kissed you sweetly on the cheek. "I love you so much."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So in the actual dream, I was sneaking through a cornfield with Tony when we found the farmer, who then shot me with his rifle. Tony then picked me up bridal-style and we flew into the sunset


	20. Plum (Bucky Barnes x Reader)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> We get it I love Bucky Barnes okay no need to keep beating a dead horse

You were walking into the kitchen at the compound, looking for a snack, when you were met with Bucky arranging five or six boxes of plums in the way that would take up the least amount of space. "Woah, Buck, I knew you got teased about plums, but I didn't know that the rumors were true. How many do you have there?" you teased.

"I don't know. A couple hundred, maybe? But they're small," he justified.

"Dude, seriously? What are we even going to do with all of them?"

"I've been looking up recipes. They're really good. Here, try one." He held out a red plum to you. They were really small. This one was one of the bigger ones, and it could fit comfortably in a circle made by your thumb and index finger.

You took the plum cautiously and washed it off. Bucky watched you expectantly as you raised it to your lips. You suddenly felt really awkward and dropped your hand. "I can't do this when you're looking at me like that!" you exclaimed.

He began to laugh. "Okay, okay. Look, I'll get one of my own." He grabbed himself a black plum and took a bite out of it. His face puckered. "Those are sourer than the red ones. They're not bad, just not as sweet."

"Duly noted. Where did you get these?"

"You're stalling, (Y/N), I can tell. But Sam knows a guy with some plum trees. He said that he didn't want all of them and that if we wanted some, we could go pick them," he supplied.

"Bucky Barnes, Plum Picker. I think you have a future in the industry."

"Nah, it's Steve that has a future in fruit picking. You should have seen him."

"So Steve went with you? Who else was invited to your plum picking party?"

"Ooh, plum picking party. Try saying that five times fast. Plum picking party, plum picking party, plum...I guess it's not that hard. Never mind," he dismissed. "It was just Sam, Steve, and me. Now eat your plum."

"Not with you watching me like the stalker we all know you are."

He brushed off the ridiculous comment with one of his own. "Aw, is the poor baby nervous?"

"Barnes, I swear, I will hurt you."

"(L/N), sweetheart, you're all bark and no bite."

"Wanna prove that, jerk?" You punched him in the arm, but he appeared not to notice.

Instead, he asked, "Is there a fly in here? I think one might have landed on my arm."

"Yes, it's me in the act of flying away." You turned on your heel and walked out the way you came in.

"(Y/N), no, wait! I'm sorry!" he called after you, but it was too late. You weren't coming back.

You didn't go very far, despite what he thought. Now that you were alone, and away from prying eyes, you were ready to take a bite of what Bucky swore was one of the best things he'd ever eaten.

Or were you?

No, no you weren't. You were alone, except for FRIDAY and the security cameras, but you still felt super uncomfortable with putting it in your mouth. Maybe it was because you'd never had a plum before? Ha! You couldn't fool yourself into thinking that. You knew why you couldn't bite into it.

Your crush on the illustrious James Buchanan Barnes was getting you all flustered again.

You and Bucky were best friends. The lighthearted banter and genuine care for each other that made up your friendship would stay if you two ever did begin a relationship, and would just make it that much stronger. Everything would be the same, but at the same time, everything would change.

You liked the way things were between you, and you didn't want to let anything break it.

You took a bite out of the small plum on a whim and were surprised with what you had been missing out on for so many years. "Woah!" you shouted. "Oh my gosh, these are amazing!"  
\--  
"(Y/N), no, wait! I'm sorry!" he called after you, but it was too late. You weren't coming back. "Ugh," he grunted, dropping his face into his hand.

Steve entered then, snatching a red plum out of a box and washing it off. "What's wrong, pal?" he asked, taking a bite and leaning against the counter,

"Why am I such a failure with women?"

Steve was a bit taken aback with this exclamation but laughed anyway. "I didn't know that you had a thing for her."

"Steve, let's be honest. Who wouldn't?" he asked rhetorically.

Steve shrugged in agreement. You were beautiful, perhaps not classically, but you still drew eyes. "Fair enough," he replied. "But Buck, you have to remember that this ain't the 40's anymore. People are a lot different now than they were then."

"Yeah, but I can still go out and have girls that have never met me before hanging all over me. Some things really haven't changed."

"(Y/N)'s a lot different than them. She sees you for you and not your outside," Steve reasoned.

"That's why I like her so much. She's so down to earth some of the time, and when she's not, she's way up in the clouds," he chuckled.

Steve laughed, too. "There is no in-between. That's why everyone likes--"

"Woah!"

Steve was interrupted by your shout from the hall. "What was that?" he wondered aloud.

"Oh my gosh, these are amazing!"

"She must have finally eaten that plum I gave her," Bucky smiled.

Your footsteps came closer to the kitchen, and Steve backed out the other way. "I'll just watch from afar."

You walked into the kitchen calmly, although you were very excited about these plums. "Are all plums like this?" you asked.

"These are the best ones I've ever had," Bucky responded honestly. "Have you never had one before?"

"No. I guess that my standards have been set pretty high, then. I'd hate to be disappointed with other ones." You tossed the pit into the trash can. "But now, I understand why you picked so many."

"I mean, you're definitely still allowed to tease me, but I have the right to tease you back," he claimed.

"I won't deny you that," you agreed. You caught Bucky staring at you with a look of concern on his face. Your cheeks burned red as you asked sheepishly, "You okay over there?"

"You have something on your face," he lied, but you didn't pick up on it.

"Oh! Where?"

"Um, right below your nose."

You wiped the skin between your upper lip and your nose, then asked, "Did I get it?"

"Not quite." You dragged your hand across the area again, but Bucky laughed. "You're not getting it. Here, let me help."

You stepped over to him, and he leaned his face nearer in order to see better, or so you thought. You both were very aware of how close you two were. He brushed his thumb over the top of your lip, and then...

He swiftly pecked your lips with his own, then ran off quickly, saying, "Got it!"

You stood still, stunned for a second. He'd really just kissed you.

"What was that?" you shouted incredulously. "Bucky, get your sorry butt back here!"

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The line "You liked the way things were between you, and you didn't want to let anything break it" has come back to haunt me so many times you have no idea
> 
> I wrote this back when I had barely ever had a crush on a boy
> 
> And then
> 
> AnD tHeN
> 
> I had guyfriends and then developed crushes on them (but more on that if you ask)
> 
> I'm still single as heck though lol


	21. I Hate Tourists (dad!Clint Barton x Reader)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Clint feels like he's been neglecting his oldest child

"(Y/N), can I talk to you for a second?" your father asked you. He leaned on the doorframe to your room, arms crossed over his chest.

"Sure, Dad, what's up?" you said, closing your math book and setting it aside. You cleared a space for him to sit.

"Well, your mother and I have been talking..." he trailed off in a way that made you worried. Clint Barton had no lack of confidence, yet here he was, too nervous to tell his oldest daughter something.

"Yeah? About what?" you prodded.

"You and I, we don't spend a lot of time together. We haven't for most of your life. I've always been with SHIELD and the Avengers," he began to explain. "And I feel bad about that."

"Dad, really, it's okay. I understand. You're off saving the world. It's a good conversation-starter."

"The thing is, (Y/N), you shouldn't have to just understand. You're 16 now, and you shouldn't just have to live your life accepting that I'm never around," he argued. "And then when I am home, I give all of my attention to your younger siblings." Where was he going with this?

"As you said, they're younger. They need more attention."

"You didn't get that amount of attention at that age, though."

"Okay, okay. You're a terrible person and I hate you," you deadpanned.

"My gosh, you're definitely a Barton," he muttered. "The point of all this is," he paused for effect, "I get to take you on vacation for a week. Just you and me."

"No way. Really? Just the two of us? That's it?" A smile began to form on your face.

"Yeah, just us. Nat's coming over to help your mom. We're leaving on Wednesday."

"This Wednesday? That's two days from now. I have school; I can't just go and skip it."

"Now you sound like that Spider-Man kid. You don't really care about school that much, do you?"

"Aw, heck nah! I wanted to make sure that you didn't, either," you laughed. He rolled his eyes but smiled. "So, uh, where are we going?"

"Well, your mother suggested the beach, but that's definitely a no-go."

"Oh, yeah, definitely not. You--"

"I hate tourists," he groaned.

"Yeah, that." You wanted to go on, but he was in rant mode. Nothing could stop him until he was done raving about the horrors of tourists.

"They're everywhere, getting in the way of delicate operations, getting themselves injured, crowding around us, and they always want a picture. Do they understand that the only time we really care about them is when they're in immediate danger? No! They just have to brag to their friends that," his voice slipped into a falsetto, "'Oh, I met the Avengers on vacation, what did you do over the summer?' and they always say that I'm their favorite Avenger when I'm definitely not, but I'm right there, so they can't very well insult me."

"'Cept Ellie," you reminded him. "And me."

"Well, of course, but you're related to me. Technically in Ellie's case. But anyway, beaches are the worst because there are tourists everywhere, clamoring to get a picture and an autograph from someone they don't even care about. I hate them."

"I didn't know that you harbored such feeling of resentment towards tourists," you commented sarcastically.

"Oh, no, I absolutely love them. Hands down, the best part of the day is taking a hundred different selfies with people I'll never see again."

"It's wonderful, I'm sure," you agreed. "But really, where are we going?"

"A little cabin in the Raggeds," he supplied.

"The whats?"

"This lovely little mountain range in Colorado that most Coloradans haven't even heard of."

"Safely tourist-free," you smirked.

"Exactly," he smiled diabolically.  
\--  
It was fall already on the mountain, even though it was early September. The leaves of the aspen and oak trees had mostly turned yellow; they weren't quite ready to fall off, and there were still a few green ones. There was a lake right outside of the cabin that looked like a mirror in the mornings, and, if you were lucky, all day.

The only other people on the mountain were the caretakers, and they were an elderly couple that kept to themselves, minding their own business. You really felt like you were the only people in the world.

Though the nights were crisp, the stars were possibly the most visible that you'd ever seen them. On the farm, you could see them, but it was different in the mountains. They were sharper, more distinct. It was relaxing to sit by the lakeshore and watch them. You even saw a couple of shooting stars.

It was during the last of these stargazing sessions that your father broke the comfortable silence. "(Y/N), can I talk to you for a second?"

"Sure, Dad, what's up?"

"Well, your mother and I have been talking..." he trailed off in a way that made you worried. Clint Barton had no lack of confidence, yet here he was, too nervous to tell his oldest daughter something.

"Yeah? About what?" Neither of you realized that you were recreating the conversation that had happened just over a week ago.

"Well, it's not just your mom and me. It's the Avengers, too. We're getting older, and it might be a good idea to start planning for the future when we can't do anything to protect the world."

"That's pessimistic," you commented.

"Yeah, no kidding," he chuckled. "But, uh, as you might have guessed, there was an alternative purpose to this trip."

"And you're just bringing it up now, on the last night?"

"Yep. Let's get to the point, here." He turned to face you. "I'd like to talk to you about the Young Avengers Initiative."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> My dad's name is Clint but he reminds me more of Phil Coulson than anything lol
> 
> This was my entry for the 4th round of the contest, which I believe I lost? I don't remember honestly


	22. Pájaro 1/3 (Sam Wilson x Reader)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> After months, the reader is rescued from Hydra by people that expect her to recognize them

You were hearing noises outside your cell again. In the beginning, it had made you feel hopeful that your people were coming to rescue you. With your hope disappeared your memories, and you were left with nothing. You didn't know who you were expecting to come and get you out of this hell, but after a few months, it was evident that they weren't coming.

Usually, the noise was just the prisoner across from you using his new-found super strength to bust out and try to escape. He never succeeded, but his determination had yet to fail in making you feel a little bit happy. The first time, he'd tried to help other people get out with him--which was how you knew what the sounds were--but when you and the others were punished for his actions, he'd taken it on himself to get out and get help. The guards always managed to subdue him enough to put him back in his cell.

The sounds outside today were no different than every other day; shouting from the guards, clanging, a couple of thunks, then footsteps racing down the hall.

You started counting the seconds that it took the guards to get Number 73 back in his cell. He'd set his record back a couple of weeks ago at 7,084, just shy of two hours. You'd almost been fooled into thinking that he'd escaped, but kept counting just in case. No one had ever escaped before, but you figured that they'd have some emergency protocol if someone ever did.

There was something different today, though. There was some messing with the handle on your cell door, and it creaked open. The harsh light hurt your eyes, and you instinctively raised your arm to provide a little shade to make the transition easier.

"I found her, Cap," the man that opened the door said to no one. "We're here to rescue you, (Y/N)."

"Who's we? Who are you?" you asked suspiciously, your voice gravelly from lack of use.

Sam Wilson's heart shattered at your disbelief and inability to recognize him. He swallowed the emotions that had just exploded and replied. "Doesn't matter right now. We're getting all of the prisoners out. Let's go."

"No. If you know me, I want to know how."

"We're kind of limited on time here," he hinted.

Your ears picked up on something quiet coming from the man's direction. "Aw, Sam, is she holding you up? The couple reunited?" You frowned.

"Not like that," he muttered to the guy on the other end of the comm. "I'll tell you on the way out, okay?" he said to you. He helped you to your feet, resisting the overwhelming urge to pull you into a tight hug and never let you go.

"Sam, what do you mean, 'not like that?' Is she okay?"

"Cap, I'm sorry, but you're going to have to see for yourself." He switched back to you, handing you a small device. "This busts the locks," he explained. "I take one side, you take the other?"

"Can-do, Pájaro," (Birdman, bird) you commented on his suit. He stiffened noticeably. "You don't like that nickname?"

"No, no, it's fine. I just haven't heard it since...well, it's been a while."

The two of you opened all of the cells in the hall, and Sam directed the prisoners to where the Avengers were waiting to take them to safety. The rest of them ran out with what little energy they had, but you had expended yours in opening the doors. You were becoming fatigued quickly and were using Sam as a much-needed crutch to get you away from this awful place.

"Hey, Sam?" you grabbed his attention.

He looked at you in bewilderment. "I thought you said you didn't know who I was. Are you remembering?"

You shook your head. "No, but I wish."

"How did you know my name, then? I didn't tell you."

"The guy on your radio. And why are you speaking do loudly? I'm right next to you."

"I'm sorry. I thought I was just speaking normally," he apologized, quieting considerably. "But I don't have a radio; I just have a comm. You could hear that from 10 feet away?"

"It was quiet, but yeah. I wonder if that relates to why I was able to hear noises outside of the cell. It was supposed to be soundproof."

"I think they changed you, (Y/N). Your hearing was definitely not that good before," he chuckled. "You were a little deaf."

The Hydra guards around you were all either out cold or dead. The front doors to the facility were visible, or what was left of them, at least. You wanted to say this before you were in the company of others, so you said it now.

"Were we an...item?"

Sam laughed nervously. "What gives you that idea?"

"The guy on the other side on the comm. He said something about the couple being reunited."

You meant the universe to Sam. Those few months without you had destroyed him, and he'd barely set apart time to eat sleep, talk to his teammates, and take care of any other necessities in his search for you. If you had no idea who he was anymore, he felt that there was little point to his existence.

"If you don't remember, I'm not gonna force anything on you. I wouldn't want you to live a life you didn't know the reason behind."

"So we were, then?"

Sam laughed. It was a nice sound, and you knew it wasn't the first time that you heard it. "Nothing gets by you."

You were suddenly tackled in a hug from the side. You would have fallen over if Sam hadn't helped you compensate.

"I missed you so much," a redheaded woman whispered, her voice quavering.

"We all missed her, Nat," Sam said so that you wouldn't have to say anything. He understood that you were confused as more people began to surround you. He always could read your emotions like a book.

"Yes, but Wanda and I missed her the most," she argued, still holding onto you.

"More than me?" Sam chuckled.

"Gal pals forever. Wouldn't you agree, (Y/N)?" She released you but kept her hand on your shoulders.

You acted like you knew exactly what was going on, and gave her a sly smile. "Always."

That was exactly what she was looking for, apparently. Other people moved in where she left, all talking so loudly. They started moving towards two quinjets landed next to each other, and you, in the middle of the pack, had no choice but to follow.

The other prisoners were sitting down next to them, enjoying the grass on the ground, the fresh air, and the stars in the sky. They, unlike you, hadn't experienced those things for years rather than months. That didn't make them any less beautiful.

"We're splitting everyone in half, both the team and civilians, okay? Are we all good with that?" a man in a stars-and-stripes type uniform announced. You recognized his voice from Sam's comm. "(Y/N), you want to go with Sam?"

You turned to the man at your side, set a bright smile on your face, and said to 'Cap,' "Of course."

Once on the quinjet, you sat awkwardly next to your supposed partner, careful to keep personal space. You didn't know exactly why you pretended to know who you and everyone else were, but you began to think that maybe it was because you felt guilty for not remembering. They'd waited to have their (Y/N) back, but even as you were with them, you weren't.

"(Y/N)?" Sam caught your attention.

You met his eyes. You were lost a little in the emotion you could see behind them. He was trying to be supportive of you, but you could see how crushed he was. "I'm sorry, Sam," you apologized quietly. You looked at the ground in shame.

"Hey, now. Don't do this to yourself." He turned your face towards him, but you couldn't meet his eyes again. You kept your eyes focused on the floor.

"I'm not doing anything to myself. I can see that I'm hurting you. I don't want to do that, but I can't help it."

"Of course not," he consoled you. "You couldn't have done anything to prevent this."

"How did I manage to get captured by Hydra? If I was with the Avengers, then I must have had some talent. I must have been strong. I probably did something stupid and got myself landed in that cell."

"You're obviously remembering something, here, darlin'."

"What? What are you talking about?" you questioned.

"I don't think we've said anything about being the Avengers, but you just said it. You know, somewhere, who we are."

For the first time in months, you cracked a smile--a real smile. "I guess you're right. It's a start." You paused, remembering something else. "I was the one that called you Pájaro, wasn't I?"

Sam nodded in affirmation and brought your knuckles to his lips. "Looks like a darn good start, too."


	23. Pájaro 2/3 (Sam Wilson x Reader)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Maybe the reader is remembering? Maybe she's not?

You looked all around the cabinets for a hot chocolate packet for the Keurig machine on the counter. You'd always had a distaste for coffee, but that was all you could find. They were probably kept in a specific spot, and not being able to find them was definitely a tell that you didn't know what was going on.

You kept searching so frantically that you didn't notice Vision walk in the room. He watched you going through the drawers for a few seconds before he decided to speak up.

"Are you all right, (Y/N)?"

You jumped and hit your hand really hard on the edge of the granite counter. "Ow! My gosh, the counter is hard," you complained. "Oh, yeah, I'm fine! Just great! Why do you ask?" you inquired, cradling your hand. It felt like it had just been broken in half along a horizontal line. Stupid granite.

"You seem agitated. I assure you, we didn't move your hot chocolate. The packets are still in the cupboard above the microwave," he confirmed, although it felt like he was reminding you.

"Why do I keep them so high?" you wondered aloud. "I'm definitely not that tall."

"You ask yourself the same question every morning. I've concluded that you do it because you don't want anyone else getting into them if they're fine with coffee. Considering that you buy the special packets yourself, you keep them up high to discourage the others from stealing them. Is that accurate?"

You smiled somewhat nervously. "Yeah, that sounds about right." You stood on the tips of your toes to grab a hot chocolate packet, then set it down in the machine. What happened next felt so natural that you knew that you'd done it at least a hundred times before.

You grabbed your favorite mug from the lowest shelf in the cup cabinet, set it down on the machine, and pressed the right setting to make the drink just the way you liked it. Then came the miraculous part.

You remembered. You had so many memories of mornings spent fighting over the hot chocolate rights, the use of specific mugs, and who got to use the Keurig first. There were some days when someone would get up a little bit earlier than everyone else and make a special breakfast, preparing drinks specially and everything.

So this was how you were going to remember your life; it was going to come piece by piece by doing things you did every day, unlocking memories associated with the action.  
\--  
Unbeknownst to you, the Avengers had planned a special welcome-home meal for you for the second night that you were back. You kind of ruined their surprise by walking in on a three very confused superheroes bent over a note card. You leaned over it too, reading the ingredients and directions for the recipe written on it before you read the name of the dish. They didn't notice.

The title sparked a small memory. It was your favorite dinner, something that your mom had taught you how to make. You didn't really need the recipe card, but the other Avengers wanted to know how to make it. They tried, but it never was quite the same as when you made it.

"You want some help there?" you asked Wanda, Tony, and Thor. It was an odd combination, but they were the ones who liked the dish the most.

"(Y/N), you're supposed to be resting," Thor boomed.

You flinched and brought your hands to your ears. "Would you mind talking a little quieter? Hydra enhanced my hearing a lot, so it's like everything's on full volume."

"I apologize. I should have noticed. You're much quieter than you used to be," Thor noted.

"We're all just used to talking a little bit louder around you," Tony explained. "I'm sure we'll adjust quickly."

"To answer your question, though, yes, we could use your help with this," Wanda smiled. "It was supposed to be a surprise, but if you feel like helping, I will not turn you away."

About an hour later, everyone gathered at the dinner table. They sat in specific spots, and you wondered if they were assigned or if it was just a regularity. Just in case, you waited until everyone else was seated so that you could find your spot.

"Oh, (Y/N), this is perfect, as always," Tony complimented you.

Your cheeks heated slightly, and you replied, "Well, I had no shortage of help tonight. It would be dishonest to take all the credit."

"Funny thing," Natasha spoke up. "Before you were taken by Hydra, you would have gladly taken it, or at least in a joking manner."

You smiled and laughed nervously. "I guess I've changed a little bit. Near solitary confinement for two months can do that to you."

Natasha's playful nature turned deadly serious, her gaze turned to ice. "A little more than a little change. You don't seem to know your normal habits, don't go through any déjà vu when we try to recreate conversations, and overall have a shifty demeanor. Who are you?"

"I-I'm me, of course. Who else would I be?"

"A Hydra agent," she stated. "Now give me proof that you're really (Y/N)."

You stood up and tried to get as far away from this woman as you could. She anticipated that move and pinned you against the wall.

"Nat," Sam tried to stand up for you, "I don't really think this--"

"Shut it, Bird-Brain. This has happened before, and I'm not anxious to repeat the experience. I don't think you are, either."

He lowered his head in both acceptance and grief. You looked at both of them in shock. Hydra had taken you, then sent an imposter in your place? You were pretty sure that you were who Sam thought you were, but now you were beginning to doubt the memories that had begun to resurface. Were you just really another Hydra pawn?

"Who are you?" Natasha asked again.

"I-I--"

"Who are you?"

"I don't know!" you finally shrieked. Tears began to pour down your face as the redhead released you and you slipped down the wall. "I don't know," you repeated, sobbing.

"(Y/N), I'm sorry," she told you.

"No, I'm sorry," you rebutted.

"(Y/N), why would you be sorry?" Steve asked. "We're the ones who didn't believe that it was really you. We were the ones that took our own sweet time to find you."

"Because you did find me, and expected to have me back, just like before. I'm different, though. I don't know who I am anymore, and even though I have bits and pieces of what it was like, I don't really know anything."

"You really don't remember anything?" Tony questioned. You shook your head. "Guess who's reusing all the old jokes."

"Tony!" everyone else chastised him while you actually laughed.

"No, do that. It might make me remember something."

"Sure, but then we have to suffer through them again," Rhodey complained.

"Whatever happens, just know that we have your back. No matter how fast or slow this happens, we're here for you," Natasha said. She had gone from your worst nightmare to your best friend in a matter of seconds.

Sam sat down next to you against the wall and laced his fingers in between yours. "Don't think for a second that we would ever hurt you abandon you, okay?"

"Okay. Thanks, guys."


	24. Pájaro 3/3 (Sam Wilson x Reader)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Yeah, she's remembering

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sam Wilson deserves the world and I will fight

Sam took you out for the first time since you had been rescued from Hydra two months after the event. In that short amount of time, you had managed to recover most of the memories that had been locked away just by doing normal things with the team. There was still a big gap though, the one you had been the most anxious to fill: your relationship with Sam.

The night that you two were going out just so happened to be your two-year anniversary, and you couldn't recall any of it. You didn't know how or why you had fallen in love with your Pájaro, you just knew somehow that he was more special to you than the rest of the Avengers. That infuriated you more than anything, but Sam appeared unaffected. He had this amazingly unwavering faith that you would remember.

The two of you were walking down the streets after dinner, laughing and talking to each other. Sam's logic was that if you didn't have old memories, then you would make new ones. You were having a lot of fun with that tonight.

You had learned that there were two sides to Sam; he could be formal and polite or sarcastic, funny, and a little inappropriate. He managed to work both around you. He was nothing but sweet to you, but he wasn't afraid to joke around and have fun.

"Oh, Sam, I have an idea," you exclaimed.

"Do tell," he encouraged.

"Instead of a get-to-know-you game, since you already know me, what if we tried a get-to-know-me type game?"

"What do you mean by that?"

"Like, you ask me questions about me, I guess, then you answer as you remember. I think it could jog some memories."

"Hey, it's worth a shot at the very least," he agreed. "Where do we start...how about a favorite book?"

"Ugh," you groaned. "How could you make me choose?"

"Correct!"

"Wait, what?"

"Whenever someone asks you for your favorite book, that's your exact response every time. It never fails," he explained.

"I'll take it."

"Favorite genre of music?"

"I've always had a soft spot for movie scores. They're so underrated, but when you think about it, what's a movie without the music?"

"Nothing," he finished.

"Exactly. So was that the right answer?"

"Right on the mark. Let's see. Who was your first kiss?"

"Ah," you trailed off. This was something you weren't so sure about, so you thought for a second. "I'm not sure. I think it might have been...you?" you answered, entirely unsure.

"Really? I didn't know that."

"If you didn't know, then why did you ask?"

"I guess that I was just as curious as you are now."  
\--  
_Great. It had started to rain--in the middle of February. You were fine with rain, even loved it during all of the other seasons. But when it was supposed to be snowing? Not okay in the least._

_You and Sam had had plans to walk around Central Park a little and enjoy the crisp winter air. Walking was your thing. As long as you were warm enough, the two of you could walk around and talk for hours on end. You had likely discussed everything that had ever happened in the history of the earth, plus two or three events. Sometimes, the discussions were extremely scholarly and intelligent, and sometimes they were pure satire. Few things were as fun as making fun of serious subjects._

_So there you two were, laughing about how ridiculous politics could be, in the middle of the snowy Central Park, and it had begun to rain. Freezing droplets of water fell around you, slipping under your coat and down your neck, soaking your hair, forming puddles on the sidewalk that by all accounts should have been freezing over, but weren't. It was fairly miserable._

_"Not cool, Weather! Not cool at all," you cursed the rain clouds._

_"(Y/N), I don't think that yelling at the sky is going to do anything," Sam rationalized._

_"Yeah, yeah, but it feels like it's doing something. Try it."_

_"I feel like I would just look dumb."_

_You chuckled. "Well, you don't need to yell at the sky to do that."_

_"Come on, Darlin', that's cold."_

_"Not as cold as this stupid rain!" You turned your head upward on the last words as if that would somehow make the clouds feel guilty._

_"Oh, just come here." Sam pulled you into a warm hug._

_You "Mmmm"ed happily. "How do you stay so warm, Pájaro?"_

_"I think it's a guy thing."_

_"Well, thank the heavens for guys." What you did next surprised even you. It just felt like you'd done it before, so natural that you couldn't resist. You stood up on your tiptoes and pecked his lips._

_He responded quickly and kissed you back, taking the time that you needed to realize that your first kiss, like your first kiss in your life, was a totally cliche kiss in the rain._  
\--  
"Yeah, it was my very first kiss. I remember that now."

"You do? The whole situation?"

"The whole dang freezing night. What is rain doing showing up in February, anyway?"

"Hey, this is great! You were right, you're starting to remember stuff. Let's try another one." He looked around for inspiration for the next question. He saw a flower vendor up and selling way past when normal people selling flowers would have closed up shop. "Favorite flower?"

You saw the vendor, too. You stopped to scan the stand. "Hm, was it...a daisy?"

"This is the first one you've gotten wrong! You're losing your touch, sweetheart," he teased.

"Shut your beak, Pájaro."

"While you're thinking about the flower, why did you start calling me Pájaro? I actually don't know that."

"I think that it's because everyone else had their own little nickname for you, like Bird-Man or Falco, and I wanted to stand out," you concluded. That part was a little fuzzy for you, still.

"So you called me Bird-Man in Spanish?"

"Sounds about right," you giggled. "How about a magnolia?"

"Colder."

"Poppy?"

"Now that I think about it, warmer and colder doesn't really work for this," he realized.

"Rose?"

"Close. What color?"

"Oh, it was a specific color? How very like me," you muttered. "Definitely not red."

"You and red roses never did get along. You've told me horror stories about high school Alice and Wonderland productions."

"I had literally the dumbest role!" you defended yourself. "I was the rose, and you'd kind of expect the flower with a legitimate name to be some kind of leader, but no. Yellow was such a control freak. She drove me crazy."

"And you've converted a bad experience with flower roles into why you hate red roses. Why don't you hate yellow flowers that much?"

"Oh, I do, bud. I definitely do. Was it pink?"

"There it is!" he congratulated you. "Do you remember the time that we went out for our one-year, and I brought you some pink roses?"

You thought for a second, waiting for the memory to suddenly occur to you. Nothing happened. "I can't say that I do remember."

"Maybe if we buy one, then it'll help."

"I left my money back in my room, and I wouldn't ask you to--"

"(Y/N), we're way past this. You don't need to pay for a gift from me to you," Sam assured in a way that you couldn't disagree.

"All right, then. Buy me a flower, then we'll see if anything resurfaces," you accepted.

He came back with three pink roses. You thanked him, and the two of you continued walking. You felt the thornless roses up and down the stem, running your fingers along the outside of the petals. Only when you took a breath of their sweet scent did something happen.  
\--  
_"Nat, it's fine. I can deal with this myself. In fact, I'd be less nervous if you weren't there," you pleaded with her. "Just leave me alone, and I'll tell him myself."_

_"The ever-independent (Y/N), ladies and gents," she snorted. "I get $20 if you chicken out."_

_"You'd best be saving your pennies, then, because my money is staying in my possession, thank you very much." You turned on her heel and left her chuckling to herself in the gym._

_After a quick shower, you went looking for Sam under the guise of searching for a small snack before dinner. Coincidentally, you found him in the kitchen doing just that._

_"Hi, Sam," you greeted him cheerfully._

_"Hey, (Y/N). How's your day been going?"_

_"Oh, well enough, I suppose. Natasha's been bugging me all day about something, but she'll just have to get over it."_

_"May I ask what that something is, or is it personal?" he pried a bit._

_"It's a little personal, but I can trust you with it," you hinted. That $20 was staying in your purse where it belonged._

_"I'm all ears if you're comfortable."_

_"Well, I, uh, I really like you, Sam," you began. Before he had time to react, you went on. "And I was wondering if, maybe, you'd like to go out sometime?"_

_His face split into a grin. "Call it fate, but I was about to ask you the same question."_  
\--  
It was all there. You knew every detail that you should have about who you and Sam were. You looked up to meet his eyes, and he picked up on what had just happened before you even had a chance to say anything.

He wrapped you up in a hug that quickly turned into a sweet kiss. "It's good to have you all back, sweetheart."

"Oh, believe me, Pájaro," you said, bopping him on the nose with one of your flowers, "I know."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This part and this part solely was my entry for the fifth round of the contest (which I won). The prompt was actually "Buy me a flower, then we'll see" but I called the whole series Pajaro (just imagine the accent over the first a) because I liked it better


	25. Who Cares Anymore? (dad!Phil Coulson x Reader)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> After the loss of her father, the reader can barely cope

I just really like the idea of Phil having a daughter, okay? This can definitely be seen as a prequel to Look Me in the Eyes, plus it's round 6 of DisneyWorldInfoQueen 's contest. Double-whammy.

That's right, this was your seventh assignment in three weeks. That was the equivalent of a new assignment every three days. Everyone outside of the situation told you that Fury was overworking you and that you should be taking your time to move on.

"It's not healthy," one fellow agent might tell you.

"A lot of the stuff I do isn't healthy," you'd retort tersely. Then, you'd walk away, trying your best to be alone.

The truth was, Fury himself told you that you shouldn't have been doing what you were. You were requesting assignment after assignment in order to distract yourself. You didn't want to think about what had happened almost a month ago on that helicarrier when you had heard the four words that you had feared for years: "Agent Coulson is down."

The night after that marked the first time you had cried in years. Coulson was the only part of your family you had left, as your father, and now that he was gone, you were really alone. That seemed reason enough to cry to you, and you truly despised crying.

You weren't the most social of people, and you didn't ever feel the need to make friends. When you said that you had no one, you really didn't. Though there was a large crowd at your father's funeral, none, save a few generally concerned individuals said anything to you. None offered friendship or a shoulder to cry on--though you wouldn't have taken the latter--just their sincerest condolences.

You limited your conversations with Director Fury to strictly SHIELD business. Maybe he would have tried to help you, but you shut down his every attempt to turn a conversation elsewhere.

"(Y/N), how about you take some time off instead of taking another assignment?" he'd suggested the day before.

"I'm going to have to respectfully decline your generous offer, Director," you gave your rehearsed reply. "I think it's best that I keep doing what I pledged to do when I joined SHIELD."

"What, run yourself down into exhaustion? That's not what you pledged to do. And when you do, what then, Coulson?"

You flinched at the sound of your last name. "I do what my dad would do."

"And that is?"

You looked directly into his eye and spoke quietly, yet clearly, "I just keep going."

Today, you were at an airport in the Midwest waiting out a layover. You were supposed to arrive at a SHIELD safe house in Alaska late that night in order to observe some supposedly magical moving island that was loaded with treasure.

Sunlight flooded the airport through the large windows, creating a happy, excited feeling in the air. You ignored that like a champ, sitting on a bench and glaring daggers at the gigantic American flag on the wall. The world was a visibly darker place without Phil Coulson, to you, anyway.

A man noticed your state and approached you. "Something the matter?" the stranger asked you, sitting down next to you on the bench.

You avoided looking at him, and replied, "No, everything is just perfect. Life's good and all that."

"Oh, I can tell. You feel like talking about it?"

"You're a stranger. I don't feel like talking to you about anything."

"I wouldn't say that we're strangers," he said. "We've met before."

"Have we? How?"

"SHIELD."

"Ah. That would explain it." You took a quick glance over at him, taking in his general appearance. He wore a black jacket and sweatpants with a heather gray painting shirt with gray running shoes. His hood was up so that you couldn't see his face, but otherwise, he didn't look like a SHIELD agent. "Undercover agent or a run-in?"

"I wouldn't say that I'm exactly undercover, but I am an agent. I'm more...on break, you might say. But now that we're a little more aquatinted with each other, do you want to talk about something? I gather that you'll be waiting a little while for your plane."

You sighed. "I guess it's probably a good idea to get this off of my chest, if even just a little bit." The man next to you waited patiently for you to go on. "My father was an agent of SHIELD, a pretty proud one at that."

"Was?"

"Yeah, was. He was so happy all the time. He loved his job so much. And then--"

"He was killed in the line of duty, wasn't he?"

You went quiet for a second. "Yeah," was all you could think to say.

"How long has it been?" he prodded after a moment of silence.

"A little over three weeks."

"Are you going back to work now, then? I'm surprised that you took just three weeks to settle yourself. Trying to get over the death of your father--" he paused to clear his throat as his voice escalated in pitch. He was becoming emotional. "Well, ah, it's not a quick or easy process. It's been most of my life for me, and I have times where I still haven't fully healed."

"I'm so sorry. I know how hard it is, and no, it's not an easy thing at all. But I'm not going back to work. I've been working this whole time."

"What?! Agent, you should have taken time to--"

"I know, I know; I've heard it a hundred times before from other agents and even Fury, but it's the only thing that's been keeping me going lately," you confessed. "I worked for SHIELD before, but now it's different. I guess it makes me feel closer to him, now that he's gone. It probably seems silly."

"No, it doesn't. It makes perfect sense. You're doing what he did, and it makes you feel better," he explained in his own words. Neither of you said anything for a few minutes. He didn't know what to say, and you didn't have anything to say.

"Who cares anymore?" you finally asked rhetorically. You smiled and laughed just a little bit. Your new...friend seemed shocked at the change in your mood. "I mean, I certainly don't. My own life isn't important to me. I sound crazy, and I probably am, but the lives of normal people matter more to me than mine."

"Listen, (Y/N)--

"I never told you my name," you snapped suddenly.

"I, uh..."

"If you had known me, you would have known who my father was and that he died," you stopped him again. "So you can drop the act that we're barely acquaintances and tell me who you are right now."

"Oh, dear," he sighed. He took a small device from his face but didn't lower his hood yet. "I guess I just blew the whole surprise thing I planned out."

Your mouth dropped open. That voice--it was impossible for anyone to be hearing it anymore. The man bearing that voice had died three and a half weeks ago. Yet, you were hearing it now, which could only mean one thing.

"Sorry that I took so long to get back," he said, lowering his hood and turning to look at you.

Your eyes burned with tears, but none fell. "No need to apologize. I didn't even know you were coming back." You took a sharp breath and launched yourself onto your father. You hugged him so tightly that you probably strained something. "How? How is this even possible?" you asked him, a teardrop escaping your eye and soaking into his soft jacket.

"I don't know sweetheart, but it doesn't really matter. What does matter," he began, holding you at arm's length, "is that I care. I care about your life, and you should, too." He brought you back in for another tight embrace.

"I lost you, and I just couldn't handle it. I had no one to turn to. But you're back now, so--"

The intercom system turned on, and a woman announced a few flights and their corresponding gates. You checked your ticket and found that one was yours.

"Oh, I, uh, I have to go now," you said.

"The ticket's fake," the elder Agent Coulson told you. "The whole purpose of this little trip Fury sent you on was to get us together again."

"That sneaky little turd," you cursed him under your breath.

"Watch it, (Y/N), he probably heard that."

"Well, he can hear it again! What the heck, Fury, Nicholas J.?"

"It's good to see that your back to yourself, kiddo," he chuckled. "I have real tickets of my own here. Two for California and another two for Disneyland. What do you say?"

"Dad, are you still beating yourself up for the time like 10 years ago that you got called on an emergency mission--"

"The day we were supposed to leave for Disneyland? Yes. But we get a chance now. Take it or leave it, (N/N)."

You rolled your eyes with a smile, stood up from the bench, then helped your father up. "I'd be a fool to leave it." He pulled you into a side-hug and the two of you walked to your gate.  
\--  
Maria Hill watched the exchange from afar with a contented grin on her face. She pulled her phone from her pocket and dialed Fury.

"Mission accomplished. The Coulson's are reunited," she reported.

"Good. I hate to see a spunky kid like (Y/N) so down."

"One more thing, sir. (Y/N) would like you to know that you, in her exact words, are a sneaky little turd."

Fury just laughed. "I didn't expect anything else from her."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> If you like dad!Phil Coulson as much as I do, then maybe check out my other work Coulson Squared? I'm basically injecting the daughter reader into the show Agents of SHIELD
> 
> Also this was my entry for round 6 of the contest, which I won


	26. I Like Sunsets (Winter Soldier x Reader)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The Winter Soldier gives you no option but to do what you've wanted to do for a long time: escape

"Dissipation, what are you doing out of your cell?" the guard asked you. "And on the roof, no less."

"Don't call me that. Dissipation is a stupid alias," you replied in a whimsical state.

"Answer the question, kid."

"I like sunsets," you said dreamily.

"Since when?" The guard narrowed his eyes. He was one of the more kind guards here; he still had half a sense of humanity.

"Since always," you scoffed. "I don't think there's anything I've ever like to watch more."

He sighed. He didn't want to have to do this, but not telling his superiors might hold serious consequences. He raised his radio to his mouth and sighed, "I think we need to wipe her again. She's expressing opinions."

A hearty chortle came from the other end of the radio. "Dissipation's been a tough one to crack. I'll love having her fully under Hydra's control in the near future."

You weren't supposed to hear that exchange at all, but you did, and a familiar sense of dread replaced the bliss you felt while watching the sunset. You didn't know what the guard meant by "wiping" you, but you did somewhere inside you. You did not want to be wiped.

You willed the molecules in your body to spread in a way that allowed you to go invisible. That's why they called you Dissipation; you literally looked like you dissipated. You walked to the edge of the roof, willing yourself to hard to jump off and run away to safety. While in this form, you couldn't be harmed.

You couldn't do it. You felt tied to this Hydra lab, for some reason obligated to stay. Maybe it was because you wanted answers. While you still remembered who you were for a few more moments, you wanted to know how they'd found you when you'd been so careful to blend in. You wanted to know why they'd taken an interest in you. They weren't about to tell you, but it didn't change the fact that you wanted to know why.

You reformed standing on the edge of the roof, head bowed in your own shame. You had been this close to escape many times before, unable to force yourself to go, not that you pieced that together. The last few months were fuzzy.

The guard took your arm firmly in his grasp and led you to the stairs of the facility. "Sorry about this," he muttered.

You caught a last glimpse of the setting sun. "I really like sunsets," you murmured wistfully.

"Yeah, me, too, kid. Me, too."

You both stayed silent, a pit forming in your stomach the lower you went. Down the fourth flight of stairs, you started resisting a little, walking purposefully slower. Fifth, and you were trying to tug your arm away. Sixth, and you were having a full on panic attack. There was only one floor to go, an you were as good as wiped.

All you had to do was get out of his grip, then you could go invisible and get out of here. You yanked your whole body away from the guard, but he was prepared, and was able to keep a safe grasp on your arm. You attempted to pry his fingers off, but that didn't work, either.

"Stop!" you cried. "Let me go, please!"

"I wish I could, kid, but if I did, I'd lose my job and my life," he responded plainly.

Doors burst open from the flight below and two heavy pairs of footsteps clunked up the steps. You screamed and hyperventilated as they overpowered you with ease dragging you to that awful machine. Upon seeing it, you could remember it clearly.

All you knew after that was pain.  
\--  
Nothing they could do would ever last more than a week. Seven days later, there you were on the roof of the facility again, admiring the vibrant colors of the sky. You couldn't take your eyes away from the light reflecting off the clouds.

You were interrupted from your haven of paradise by someone sitting down quietly next to you. You looked over in surprise, noticing that this wasn't the same guard that had always come to take you. This man was taller and more muscled. His hair was dark brown, chin length and matted. Stubble covered his chin, and the blank look in his crystal blue eyes told you that he had once been much more than this.

Most surprising was his metal arm, which you had a clear view of due to his position next to you. It normally would have looked harsh and intimidating, but now, the way it caught the colors of the sunset, it was beautiful. You knew that one of Hydra's finest had joined you on this evening.

It was the Winter Soldier.

"I like sunsets," he commented, his voice breaking from misuse.

"Since when?" you asked, genuinely curious.

"Since the disaster at the helicarriers," he answered. "I haven't told them what I remember yet, but I think they're catching on."

"If you're going to get out of here, then you'd better leave soon. As soon as they realize that I'm on the roof again, they'll come."

"That's kinda why I'm up here."

You gave him a funny look. "You want them to wipe you?"

"No, of course not. See," he said, "word on the street is that you're pretty good at escaping."

"Me? Oh, no, I chicken out every time. Your best shots are of going alone." Your last glimpses of the sun disappeared under the horizon of the city the facility was hidden in, leaving the two of you sitting on the roof in a purgatorial lighting.

"I think you can do it this time. In fact, I know you can do it this time, Dissipation." An edge had crept into his voice.

"And why is that?"

He pulled a small knife from his pocket. "Because you have to."

You could see in his eyes that he wasn't going to hurt you. He was truly desperate for a way out of this and wasn't afraid of threatening you into helping him.

"No--no need for the knife," you said hastily. "Come on, to the edge of the roof. If I dissipate while I'm touching you, you'll do it, too, but we become bound until I solidify."

"We just need to get to the hangar. I can take out the tracking systems in a quinjet and get us out that way. What I need you to do is make us invisible."

"You've given this an awful lot of thought, I see."

"Just as much thought as you would give any other life-or-death matter."

Sudden pounding on the door to the roof jerked both of you into action. You hadn't even noticed when the Soldier and walked into the roof, much less that he had locked the door. He went to fortify it, but you grabbed his arm.

"No," you stopped him. "We dissipate, they open the door, and we sneak through."

The Soldier facepalmed. "I haven't thought this through as well as I should have, obviously."

"Don't worry about it. Dissipating is something to get used to," you shrugged. "Oh, and by the way?"

"Yeah?"

"Don't call me Dissipation. I have a name, and it's (Y/N). I dislike aliases."

"I'm...Bucky, at least I think I am. It's still coming back," he said.

"Well, it's nice to meet you, Bucky." You took his hand, and he shook it. You didn't let go, though, and he quirked an eyebrow. "Let's get out of here."

Hydra agents busted through the door as you said the words, but you two were nowhere to be seen. Cries of, "She's dissipated!" ran through the ranks, but it wasn't like that was going to change anything. You and Bucky had already dashed halfway down the hall.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Round 7 of the contest. I think I lost? Not sure. I only really remember when I win lol


	27. Bird Murderer (Scott Lang x Reader)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Heck yeah chirren it's road trippin time

Scott was right about something that you might like, for once. A road trip with just the two of you was actually relaxing, unlike the big family cross-country drives you'd dreaded as a kid. The bag of unhealthy snacks you had gone through--and had left--was very frightening and comforting at the same time. You actually got to listen to the music that you wanted to instead of watching Disney movies on repeat. Both you and your boyfriend sang at the top of your lungs, and nobody was complaining, for once.

The wide expanse of wilderness in front of you was a comfort; the more time you spent in this strange state of bliss, the better. As soon as you got to New York, life would be an exact agenda until you left in two weeks. The Avengers were fun to mess around with for a little bit, but staying with them for an extended period of time was a whole 'nother story.

For now, you enjoyed your much-awaited time alone with Scott. This was the first time you'd gone with him to New York for the full two weeks. You had dropped by, taking a plane, for a couple of days at a time before, and even in those shorter increments, the outgoing heroes were too much for you.

You stopped at a gas station a couple of hours outside of New York. You didn't buy anything there, being completely sugared out from the previous few days, but you did manage to start an argument.

"Gosh, Scott, this isn't preserving any masculinity. Let me drive, and you can take a nap," you argued.

"No, (Y/N), I'm fine. How about you take a nap instead?" he suggested.

"Is this because you don't like my driving?" you asked suddenly, narrowing your eyes.

His jaw dropped as he fumbled for the right words. "I, no, I, uh, you're a good driver, but, um, sometimes, maybe, you're, uh, that is to say, uh..." he trailed off, shrugging. "Not as cautious as I wish you were?" He smiled apologetically.

"Scott Eugene Lang!" you shouted.

"Eugene?"

"I don't actually know your middle name," you replied sheepishly.

"It's--" he cut himself off with a huge yawn.

"Oh!" you called, pointing to him. "I told you! The driver's seat is mine!" you giggled maniacally.

"No, (Y/N), come on--"

"Nothing out of you, Lang. Hop in the passenger seat, boy."

You bounced into the right side of the front, turning on the car and buckling your seatbelt. He crawled into his seat, a dejected look on his face. That was split by another gigantic yawn. "I hate it when you're right," he mumbled.

"Eh, can it, Lang." You pulled out of the gas station parking lot and made your way back to the highway.

"Don't throw my last name around like that. It might be yours someday, sweetheart," he hinted.

"What are you trying to say here, Scott?" you grinned. "Trying to butter me up?"

"No, I'm just saying that--ugh. How do you get me this flustered?" he said, putting his face in his hands.

"It's a talent, bud."

"Obviously," he scoffed. "For now, though, I'm broke. No ring as of now."

"Aww, Scott. Going from road-raging backseat driver to hopeless romantic. You're cute." You held out your hand, and he high-fived it, confused. "No," you laughed, "gimme your face."

"What?"

"I'm keeping my eyes on the road, Mr. My-girlfriend's-not-as-cautious-as-I-wish-she-were. Just put your face by my hand." He did so, bewildered. Then you tapped his cheek twice, and said, "My poor, broke little Ant-Man. Can't even afford to buy a ring for his girl."

"Hey! Do you know just how dang expensive those things are? I could barely afford one when I was a thief. Now that I'm an honest man..." he put his hands in the air.

Out of nowhere, a rogue bird slammed into the front of the car. You both stared at the greasy mark it left on the windshield in shock.

"You legit just killed that bird," Scott said.

Panic had begun to set in. "N-no, I didn't, and don't say legit. It sounds stupid," you tried to turn the focus away.

Scott chuckled. "Whatever, Bird Murderer."

"It's not dead!" you shrieked. "I swear I saw it fly away."

He just laughed some more, then let silence fill the mini-SUV. "You know," he started after a couple of minutes, "hitting that bird was kinda hot."

Your mouth dropped open and you slammed on the brakes. The car behind you quickly switched lanes and honked loudly. "Scott!" you shouted.

"What? It's true! The way that you just fearlessly slammed that bird?"

"Stop talking!" you commanded, backhanding his arm.

He jumped and tried to dodge when you smacked his arm a second time. "It was hot!" he defended himself. "Is a man not allowed to think that his girlfriend is hot?" he muttered.

"That was not hot! I didn't even do anything, it was all that stupid bird's fault. It's not like I went out of my way to hit the bird."

"Listen, babe--"

"Ew, Scott, don't call me babe," you complained.

"Why not?"

"You'd know if I was really a babe, honey."

"And how is that?" You cracked up. "What?"

"'Cause I wouldn't be dating you," you cackled.

Scott clapped a hand to his chest. "That's low, (Y/N), even for you."

"Whatever, Bird Murderer Accomplice. Just go to sleep."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Round 8 of the contest. Pretty sure I won?


	28. School Spirit (high school!Avengers x Reader)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The joys of pep assemblies

You hated pep assemblies. As a senior, you felt inclined to go to them and watch your classmates win all the stupid challenges.

Your friends, however, liked them way too much. They were usually the ones participating in the challenges, being the volunteers and athletes that they were. They usually won, too, unless they were pitted against each other. The whole school looked forward to those showdowns.

Your school colors, red and silver, decorated the gym. Various flags depicting Shield High School's various successes hung from the rafters in the ceiling, many on the second or third banner of years of victory. You were proud of being a Shield Avenger, but you didn't understand the point of these assemblies.

Nick Fury, the student body president, walked out dramatically into the center of the gym, eliciting loud cheering. Maria Hill, his VP, followed closely behind him, carrying a microphone for the two to share.

"All right, Shield High School," she said into the mic, "make some noise!"

The cheers that came from the crowd of almost 2,000 students was deafening. You tried to cover your ears, but Wanda Maximoff stopped you.

"Come on, (Y/N), it's not that bad," she said.

"Are you deaf or something?" you shouted back. "It's definitely that bad."

Tony Stark, who was standing behind you, leaned forward and placed his forearms on your shoulders. "Aww, is the little (Y/N)'s hearing sensitive?" he teased.

You turned to glare at him. "Aww, is the baby Stark desensitized?"

"Children, please," Natasha Romanoff butted in, pushing Tony away and taking his spot. "This is supposed to be about school togetherness and all that. We don't need a civil war."

"I'm sorry, Momma Romanoff," you said, sticking your bottom lip out. "We won't do it again."

She let out a quick 'ha!' "Sure as heck, you won't. I look away for a half of a second, and you two'll be at it again. Rogers and Barnes'll probably join in, too."

"What about me?" Bruce Banner asked, just now tuning in to the conversation. "Oh, wait, shush. They're presenting the colors."

The JROTC kids came out in formation, holding their respective flags proudly. Steve Rogers held the flag of the country, Bucky Barnes held the state flag, and other students held others. You recognized James Rhodes, or Rhodey, as Tony, his best friend, liked to call him, hoisting some fancy looking flag.

Then, the choir started to sing the national anthem. You didn't know any of the choir kids personally, but they didn't do too badly. One of the girls tried to hit a top note that was way out of her range, and you could see the whole school cringe while she did her best to attempt it. Everyone clapped, anyway.

Nick and Maria took the stage again to announce athletes as they took a lap around the gym. It was strange; of your friend group, only two people played fall sports. There was Sam Wilson, who would have been with the JROTC kids if he didn't play soccer, and Thor Odinson, who had been on the varsity football team since Sophomore year.

The rest of you either didn't play sports or played in the winter and spring. Steve and Bucky, his best friend, played baseball, Wanda, Natasha, and Loki Laufeyson, Thor's half brother, all swam. Tony and Bruce were the captains of the speech and debate team, and dang, were they good. Pietro, Wanda's brother that had been killed just a year ago, had run sprints. The track team fondly remembered him for his incredible abilities.

The athletes ran around the gym, sport by sport, and then Sam, Thor, Steve, Bucky, and Rhodey joined you.

You--you did whatever. You were a bit of a floater between extracurriculars. Your friends teased you a little bit for not being able to stick with something.

You were jarred out of your thoughts by Phil Coulson, the Senior class president, carting out a big bowl full of little slips of paper. You recognized it from the many days at lunch that it had been advertised. If a person wished, they could pay 50 cents to have a piece of paper with their name on it in that bowl. In fact, they could buy as many as they wanted. If their name was drawn at the assembly, they got a special prize. You hadn't bought any.

Phil rummaged through the big bowl, looking for the perfect slip. Cheering ensued, of course. What else do high schoolers do at pep assemblies?

He finally found the perfect one and looked at it in shock. He rubbed his eyes, held it up to the light, and when he was satisfied that it was real, he gestured to Nick for the microphone. That got everyone's attention.

He chuckled a little bit before saying the name of the lucky winner. "(Y/N) (L/N)?" As always, cheering followed.

Your mouth dropped open. You didn't buy a slip of paper, so who did it for you?

"Yes!" Tony shouted. "Heck yes!"

"Anthony Edward Stark!" you yelled at him. You were glad that everyone was being loud so that they couldn't hear you.

"Woah, where did you hear my middle name?"

"Your mom," you deadpanned, then stomped out to the center of the floor. Cue more senseless cheering.

You snatched the paper out of Phil's hand. You read...Steve's handwriting?

"Okay, (Y/N). You've won the chance to participate in our little game here," Nick informed you.

"Oh, no, this is a mistake. See, this is clearly not--"

"Doesn't matter. You do get to pick a partner, though," Maria smiled. "Who would you like to be publicly embarrassed with?" That earned a laugh from the crowd.

"Let's see...Steve, come here for a sec," you beckoned your friend.

Steve was a nice guy. He was confident, tall, and a shortstop. The second he was called in front of a crowd though, his brain turned on the red face coloring.

"Is this your handwriting?" you asked him, showing him the slip of paper.

"Um...yeah, why?" he answered, his blush deepening by the second.

"Perfect!" you exclaimed. "I found my partner."

The red went to a sudden pallor. "Oh, I, uh, okay."

"Nice. So we have our contestants. The name of the game is School Spirit," Nick explained to everyone. "One of you gets one half of the school, and the other gets the other half. Get your section to be as loud as possible."

"I call the Freshman and Sophomores," you smirked, smacking Steve's arm. "May the odds be ever in your favor."

"Hey! How come I don't get a say in this?" he complained.

"Because I didn't get a say in this either, remember?" you shot back.

"Right."

You walked over to the underclassmen and got them to shout in the quickest way that you knew how.

"Gimme an M!" you demanded.

"M!"

"Gimme an I!"

"I!"

"Gimme an L!"

"L!"

"Gimme a K!"

"K!"

Then, you lead them in the chant that followed: "Don't gimme no pop, no pop, don't gimme no juice, no juice, just gimme that milk--moo, moo, moo, moo. Just gimme that milk--moo, moo, moo, moo."

"Classic summer camp chant," Maria narrated. "That averaged about 104 decibels. Not bad. Let's see what Steve can do."

"Are ya ready, kids?" he yelled at the top of his lungs.

"Aye aye, Captain!" the students responded immediately. Even some of the underclassmen couldn't help but join in.

"Traitors," you whispered under your breath.

"I can't hear you!" Steve continued.

"Aye aye, Captain!"

He decided to stop there, understanding that that was really all he had to do to tear down your record.

"Who knew that Steve Rogers would bring SpongeBob into this?" Nick marveled. "A stunning 109 decibels. I think--"

He was unable to be heard above the screaming of the upperclassmen. He paused and waited for it to die down.

"I think that we can beat that all together, though, don't you think, 'Ria?"

"Oh, definitely. (L/N), Rogers, you're on it. Think up a new way to beat the Avengers pep assembly record of 124 decibels," Maria challenged.

You and Steve went into a two-person huddle.

"You got anything?" you asked. The gym had gone eerily silent.

"Um, no--wait, yeah. Yeah, something just popped into my head," he said.

"Okay, what is it?"

"Well, I have two things, actually. One is a super cheesy pick-up line," he suggested.

"I like that. What's the other one?"

"Well, um," his blush was returning. "I was thinking, that, well, homecoming is coming up in a couple of weeks, and..." he looked up to meet your eyes, searching for approval.

You were speechless for the second time in five minutes. "Are...are you...me?"

"I mean, if you don't mind--"

"Of course! Yes! Let's do this!"

The look on Steve's face was like someone had just given him a lifetime supply of his favorite candy. "We're ready!" he called to Nick and Maria.

You both walked over to grab the microphone. Steve then oriented both of you so that you were facing most of the people. He had to wait a second so that he could be heard over the crowd.

"So, (Y/N)," he started. You were put on hold by the crowd yet again. They were so excited to see what you two had in store. "You know how homecoming's in a few weeks?"

Too much noise. You were beginning to like it, in spite of yourself.

"Sure, what about it?" you answered.

"I was wondering if you would do me the honor of being your date?"

The student body did the opposite of what they were supposed to. They went deadly silent as they waited for your reply.

"Of course, Steve."

It was like someone set off an atomic bomb. You could read the decibel rating on the side of the reader, and it had safely surpassed 124.

You then did something that surprised you, Steve, and the rest of Shield High School. You stood up on your tiptoes and kissed Steve lightly on the cheek. The rating went through the figurative roof.

"135!" came Nick's final call. "I think it's safe to say that we won't be seeing that broken for a very long time."

Everyone exited the gym talking louder than was necessary, but that was to be expected. A little hearing damage had likely been dealt to everyone. When the rest of your friends caught up to you and Steve, they tried to harass the two of you a little, but you ignored them until Tony said something that he probably shouldn't have.

"I believe that is $10 dollars that you owe me now, Bruce."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This was for some other contest, and I guess the host of the contest didn't actually like...understand American public high school even though that was one of the categories of their contest, so I lost. 
> 
> It's not that I'm bitter about losing, because I'm not (lol this is one of the worst things I've written; even if the host had understood high school, I doubt I would have won), it's more like I'm bitter that the host didn't understand the concept they were asking people to write about.
> 
> Maybe this isn't one of my more terrible pieces of writing, but I have this stigma surrounding it in my head just because this one host said that they had a hard time understanding it (like they said that it was their own fault they didn't understand it and not mine but still????)
> 
> lol sorry about that little rant


	29. "I Miss You..." "Are You Sure?" (T'Challa x Reader)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Yeah the prompt sounds like relationship cheating angst right? Ha you wish

He brought flowers every day to your gravestone--the one in Wakanda, anyway. You had a grave marker in New York, as well. Your remains weren't under his stone, but they weren't under the one in New York, and you hadn't been cremated, either. You had never been found. You had been confirmed dead; they had watched you die. They had never been able to find your body after it fell into the ravine.

Your situation was an interesting one. Your spirit was split between headstones. Most people just had one, so they were tied there. You could travel between yours and listen to whoever was pretending to speak to you. Sometimes you wished that they could know that you could hear them, but other times you were glad that they had no idea.

You were the first to hear about Natasha and Bucky's little crushes on each other, and Steve's subsequent ranting that they wouldn't just admit it to each other. He was the best man at their wedding, as was expected.

That was all years ago. You hadn't heard from the New York gravestone since Memorial Day almost six months ago. The Wakanda headstone was much more active. Every day came freshly cut flowers from both the king and strangers. They stayed until they wilted, as the king remembered how you hated to waste perfectly good flowers, or anything, for that matter.

At the beginning of your friendship, T'Challa had insisted on only the best, but as the relationship progressed, you had been able to sway him a little bit to your point of view. As you became closer to him, some of his values became yours, as well. Everything one of you did was reciprocated by the other.

Today was no different than any other. Your spirit sat on top of your headstone, meditating in the early morning sunlight. He would come to join you soon. It surprised you that he wasn't here already. He often came before anyone else was awake. You wondered if he had gone on a mission, but quickly scratched that. He always told you before he left.

You then realized the date. Today marked the 10th anniversary. Had it really been that long? You had spent most of it dead, but it didn't feel like 10 years. Perhaps he was preparing something special.

Most of the population of Wakanda hadn't approved of the idea of you, a complete outsider, and their king. That was almost 12 years ago, when you spent, at most, a few weeks at a time in the beautiful country. After T'Challa had brought you home with him for good, and the people saw how happy he was, public opinion rapidly shifted. Once you were their queen, they loved you like they did their king.

Today would have been 10 years of marriage.

You had never felt worthy of the love of such a man as T'Challa. He was kind and polite, his mannerisms emanating chivalry. You constantly felt guilty of stealing his heart the way you did, taking another girl's chance at paradise. Dying nearly two years into the union did nothing to satiate your desire for peace.

You saw his unmistakable figure exiting the palace. He had planned something special; you were right. Following him were all of the Avengers, minus the new ones you had heard about. The original gang, more or less, was gathered together.

The last time you had seen them all together like this, they were grieving. It was so good to see them smiling and happy, laughing and joking. They told stories about you, a few that would have made you blush if you could. They shared favorite memories of you and how you had made their lives brighter in little ways.

They sat on the soft grass for hours, enjoying themselves in a way that you could tell that they hadn't in a long time. You had long since accepted the fact that you couldn't be a part of their world anymore, but today, you almost felt like you were really with them again.

Time passed too quickly, as it often does, and it was soon time for lunch. Everyone went inside, eager to taste the chef's wonderful cooking. You smiled at the memory. There was nothing that he made that you hadn't enjoyed.

Only T'Challa lingered. Every day, he had something new to share with you--some new insight on the meaning of life, a moment that he enjoyed because it reminded him of you. He was still ever the romantic, even though you were gone.

Today's words contrasted deeply with everything that had just happened. He spoke of how much turmoil he still felt after eight years of your absence. You were shocked; he had seemed healed for so long. You hadn't thought that he was still hurting. You almost doubted it.

You wondered if he was really sure that he missed you. Maybe it was just the current circumstances getting to him? Or maybe you had just wanted him to move on so badly that you had convinced yourself that he had.

He told you that the moment that he had watched you die was constantly on replay in his mind, and he still felt so guilty for not being able to reach you in time. He had found the rogue that thought it would be funny to kill the queen of Wakanda, and had been ready to kill him, too, until he had remembered you.

You and your ideology had surfaced in the midst of rage and grief, and he couldn't kill the man. He spared his life but sentenced the rest of it to prison.

All you wanted at that moment was to dry the tears on his face and wrap him in an embrace. However, you were intangible, barely visible to yourself.

He apologized for his emotional state and went back inside to join his friends. You could only hope that they could help him.

You looked at the engraving on your headstone for the nth time, knowing exactly what it meant to him, and what it meant to you.

_Queen of Wakanda, Wife of T'Challa, the Fallen Avenger._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Round 9 of the contest. Yeah I think the title is weird too


	30. The Streets of Brooklyn (Tony Stark/brother!Steve Rogers x Reader)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Just let some of your feelings get off of your chest every once in a while

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Round 10 of the contest. I won this round because I was the only one who submitted an entry

When Tony Stark found out that you hadn't been on a date in almost 7 decades, he was more than eager to break the streak you had going on. He'd had his eye on you for a while now, since the Battle of New York. Hearing your confession after one of his parties was just the excuse he needed to finally ask your brother permission to, in his words, show you a good time. You still smiled to remember how his eyes grew wide, and he clarified that it wasn't that kind of good time, stumbling over his words.

It wasn't hard to believe that the man would have noticed you. You were rather attractive. Your dirty blonde hair and piercing blue eyes almost matched Steve's, which was predictable, you two being twins. You were like gender-bent versions of each other. You may not have shown muscle as much as your brother did, but you were strong both in personality and in the physical sense. In other words, you were hot, blonde, and Tony's type.

At first, you had rejected the Stark entirely. Although you would never admit it to his face, he reminded you so much of Howard, and that brought back so many memories that were better off buried. The kind of women that Tony associated with in the past did not help his cause. As time went on, however, you warmed up to the idea that he was different now, and let him take you out one evening.

The first "date" led to many more. You enjoyed his company, and he was willing to take things as slowly as you wanted to. He understood that you were married before, had had a child. You weren't quite ready to think about things in a romantic sense yet, and he respected that. You were just hanging out...as friends. Yeah.

Tonight was the seventh of such outings. Somehow, the conversation had made its way to you and Steve before the serum. It wasn't something that you thought back on a lot, at least positively, but Tony was able to make it into a fairly teasing topic, and you enjoyed that.

"Just how small were you two?" Tony smirked. You were sitting in an older car in an alley, waiting for you to be emotionally ready for showing him all of your favorite places on the streets of Brooklyn.

"It was ridiculous," you giggled. "I was almost five feet tall, and Steve was like five foot six or something. I honestly can't remember anymore."

"And then cue the supersoldier serum, and Steve is six-two, and you're, what, five-nine?"

"Five-ten," you corrected. "It's weird to even imagine it now. I can't even picture Steve as scrawny anymore."

Tony laughed at the mental image. "It's too bad that nobody cared enough to take a picture of you two before you became...freaks of nature."

"Oh, I'm sure that we had some pictures, but I don't think we could find them now. It's been 70 years," you sighed.

"You were married, though, and had a kid. There's a Rogers line out there. Wouldn't they have something?" he asked.

"I wish," you said wistfully, "but my husband died 20 years ago. My son joined the army straight out of high school, stuck with it, and died in Vietnam. The Rogers line pretty much ends there."

"You've even looked for friends and connections?" You nodded slowly, but couldn't bring yourself to say anything. "And they're all just...gone."

"Either that, or they're unreachable. They're almost a hundred years old."

"Well, so are you, sweetheart," he grinned. "But you've kept your looks."

Your face flushed bright red. For some reason, you had never been able to accept compliments. Tony flustered you more than was normal. "I-if you say so," you stuttered.

Tony suddenly became very serious. "(Y/N), I can't be the first man to have told you that you're beautiful."

Your blush deepened, and you responded, "Oh, no! Of course not! My husband used to tell me that all the time. But he, um, well," you took a breath, steadying yourself. "He never saw me like this."

"Like what? Dressed up like it's the 21st century?"

You laughed. "That, too, but that's not quite what I meant. He never saw me after the serum."

"Okay, back up," he said, his eyebrows furrowing. "I'm still confused as to how you were even involved with the serum."

"It is a pretty confusing story to begin with," you said. "It started with a man that fell in love with a woman that looked more like a child. He didn't care about that, though. He cared about who she acted like."

"That last part reminds me of someone I know," Tony mumbled to himself.

"What?" you asked. "Who?"

"Oh, I'll, uh, I'll tell you later," he promised. "Go on."

"Okay. He liked the dynamic that Bucky, Steve, and I had going on, and was glad to join it when he married me. We wasted a lot of time trying to set them up with girls," you snickered. He laughed at the idea, too. "I was the only one whoever stuck with someone. I got something out of it, too. I only wish that I'd gotten to see him become who he was.

"The war started when he was barely a year old, see, and I had my hands full with trying to stop Steve from doing anything stupid. It's not easy, you know," you cautioned Tony, a hint of a smile playing on your lips. "The man's always been as stubborn as a toddler." Tony laughed, and you continued to warn him. "You think it's funny? You try to stop him from doing what he thinks is right. Then you'll understand."

"I'm still trying to understand the idea of a tiny you and Steve, same everything except for stature."

"If I concentrate hard enough, I can still see myself in the mirror the way I used to."

Tony couldn't figure out how to respond to that, so he simply said, "Yeah." An idea popped into his head. "How about we get out of the car and walk around a little bit?" he suggested. "That is what we came here to do, after all."

"Right!" you exclaimed, reaching for the handle of the car door.

Tony stopped you. "I think I can get that," he said, smiling softly. He walked briskly to your side of the car and opened the door. He offered you his arm to help pull you out, and then to walk with. It was a little old fashioned, and you were certainly a fan of that.

"So, tell me more," he requested.

"Where was I?"

"You had to try and stop Steve from doing something stupid?" he prompted.

"Ah, yes. All three of us were busy with trying to stop Steve from enlisting. He wouldn't have been able to handle what the army demanded. Me having a baby almost killed both of us..."

"What do you mean by that?" he asked, pulling you just a hair closer to him. He didn't like the sound of that last sentence.

"Well, I almost died in labor, but what almost killed Steve was the amount of stress that my situation was putting him under. It was a scary time," you remembered.

Tony frowned. The thought of having almost lost two of his best friends before he even knew them was beyond frightening. He appeared to have a rivalry with Steve, but you could see under the surface. The friendship between the two men was complex, but it was there.

"But we were able to move past that," you went on. "Then Bucky got drafted, and then he and Steve went out on a double date, where Steve managed to enlist. I didn't understand how he could do that to us, and I really still don't. He showed up, not long after, and told me about this wonderful opportunity that he'd found for us. He wouldn't go into specifics for some reason, just saying that they needed a male and a female volunteer to help millions of people.

"I couldn't refuse, you know? He was just so excited about it, and he wouldn't have left me alone until I told him that I would. It was too early in the morning for me to think, so I agreed quickly, woke up my husband and told him that I was going somewhere with Steve, that I loved him, and that I should be back soon." Tears pricked the corners of your eyes, and you found yourself unable to go on.

"That was the last time you saw him, wasn't it?" he asked you gently, cautiously.

You nodded slowly. "The last time I saw both of them."

"You could have backed out when you found out what was going on. Why didn't you?" he inquired.

"I don't know. The thought didn't even cross my mind when they told me what was going to happen. I just felt like that was what I was supposed to do, you know?"

"Yeah."

"And then, after the serum, I looked over at Steve, and he looked at me, and then we just...understood something. The world could finally see us the way we saw each other," you explained as best as you could. "And just like he told me, Captain and Agent America helped millions of people."

"You still do," Tony said. "Billions of people now, but what's the difference, really?"

"Three zeroes, I think," you guessed. You counted them in your head. "Yeah, three."

"Well, if you're going to be a smart-alec about it, then there are two that can play at that game, Agent."

"I know that you can. It doesn't mean that you're good at the game, but you can play it."

"I had no idea that Special Agent America was so salty," he muttered.

"Salty?"

"Oh, it just means, like, super sarcastic or something," he explained.

"Ah." You became silent, enjoying each others' company as you walked the few remaining blocks to an old-fashioned restaurant. "Thanks for listening to me," you smiled. "No one else has asked, so I've never really talked about my past like that."

"Not even Steve?" he smirked.

"He already knows the story," you said, rolling your eyes.

"Speaking of the past, I did say that I would tell you who your description of your husband reminded me of," he offered.

"Who?"

"Oh, gosh. Now I'm going to sound super conceited. It was me. Sure, your looks caught my eye, but I've fallen in love with you, (Y/N), because your personality is just as beautiful." He took a short breath. "There. I said it."

You grinned. "That's the nicest thing anyone's said to me since the ice," you told him. "And, well, if you don't mind, I would like to consider this our first actual date."

His whole being brightened as he looked into your eyes, scanning for trickery. "Do you mean that?"

You nodded. "I think I'm ready to live the life that I've been given. I can't wish for the past anymore. It's gone."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Yo I never stop thinking about this AU
> 
> I wish I had the dedication to write the whole thing out because boy oh boy it's good


	31. What About My Ears? (Thor x Reader)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Rick Riordan says that elves are judgmental and mean so I assume that's true

You hid among the Midgardians because you didn't want to go back. Returning to Alfheim was out of the question unless you didn't mind nightmares. It had been a year, but you could remember their faces as clearly as ever, both the attackers and your family.

You blended in fairly well, all things considering. You were taller than the average person, and your ears pointier, but you passed as human.

An inhumanly attractive human, if that made sense.

Everywhere you went, you couldn't help but notice that people stared at you. Some eyes remained fixated on your face, and some lingered on...less desirable places. All the attention was rather new to you; you'd been kind of a runt back in Alfheim. You'd decided that you didn't really like it.

There were many things that you did like about Midgard, one of them being the new natural landmarks that you could explore. Many of them differed so much from the forests of your native realm, and it was nice to be able to go out and find peace without being reminded of what had driven you away in the first place.

It was a blustery day today, but you didn't mind. It wasn't stopping you from sitting atop the tallest rock you could find and meditating. The way that the wind blew your hair around helped your concentration while you sat on your rock. It also distracted people from looking at your ears too much. That was the real giveaway that you weren't of this realm.

The wind distracted you from an approaching intruder. He climbed up to sit behind you, back facing you, and asked you quietly, "Do you mind if I'm here? I can leave if you want."

You were jarred out of your state of peaceful apathy and into the violent real world. That ended your period of meditation. "It's alright," you responded tersely. "I can go." You stood up without looking at him and began to make your way down.

"I didn't mean to make you feel like you had to leave. By all means, the rock is completely yours," he tried to apologize.

You turned to get a good look at this man with a strangely familiar accent, ready to make a comment about how there was no going back, but you recognized those blonde locks and piercing blue eyes on the spot. No. How could he have found you? You had fled from all that, hoping to forget and be forgotten.

Thor, Prince of Asgard.

You ran in the direction of your bicycle. You couldn't afford a car, so a bicycle was the next best option. There was a plus side; riding it had a similar effect to meditating on these rocks.

Elves are usually graceful in everything they do. You usually were able to stick to that, but the wind blew your loose hair into your face, and you tripped on a stone that you couldn't see. You shouted a few choice expletives on your way down.

Footsteps slowed behind you and ceased. You struggled to get up and keep running, but he stopped you. "Why do you run?" he asked.

"Because I know who you are and why you came here," you retorted. "I would like you to know that I am not interested."

"What are you talking about?" he chuckled, moving to help you to your feet.

You shrank back, screaming, "Don't touch me!"

He flinched, bringing his hands up in surrender. "All right!" he conceded. "Just tell me what you think I'm doing here. I promise I have no idea who you are."

"You're Thor, heir to the throne of Asgard," you began. "You've likely been sent to take me back home. I'm not going with you, so you can just tell Heimdall to take you right back to your palace."

"Madam, I assure you, I am here of my own accord. I haven't been sent here to retrieve anyone," he tried to convince you. "I just happened to notice your ears, and I was curious as to what an elf is doing on Midgard."

"What about my ears?" you attempted to switch tactics. Maybe playing dumb would work better for an escape plan. You almost reached to tuck some hair behind your ear, but you realized that that would have been extremely stupid; it would have blown whatever cover you were trying to make for yourself.

"Miss, please don't make this any harder than it needs to be," he pleaded. He offered you his hand once again. "Why did you leave Alfheim?"

You begrudgingly took his hand and hoisted yourself up. "I left because of the war."

"The war is over now, but I'm guessing you knew that. I suppose the real question is why didn't you go back?"

"Because I have nothing left to return to," you said honestly. "Nothing but bad memories."

Thor took your arm and began to walk you back to the parking lot, where your trusty bike was waiting for you. "I can see why you left, and why you've chosen this place to stay, as well. Of all of the places I've seen on Midgard, the Colorado National Monument has been my favorite."

"It's peaceful, and it's by a fairly small town. You're the first person to bother me," you pointed out, just a hint of bitterness in your voice.

"I'm rather glad that I did. I'm sure that you're pleasant to be with once this barrier you've built has been broken," he reparteed.

"Ask any of the remaining elves--I'm not someone you would exactly describe as 'pleasant'. People liked me, but it wasn't because I was overly kind," you hinted.

"That's all right. I know many people like that, and I seem to get along with them well enough," he shrugged.

"If you say so," you said, stopping at your bike.

"Lady..."

"(Y/N)."

"(Y/N). Lady (Y/N), stay in contact with me, will you? I know it is difficult to become accustomed to all of the strange Midgardian traditions, and if you are in need of assistance, I believe that I can provide it," he offered, hitting a series of digits down on a piece of paper. "This number is direct communication to me through what they call a 'cell phone'."

"As soon as I figure out how to use one, and acquire one for myself, I will contact you," you promised. "But for now, good day, Prince Thor." Without a word, you rode your bike away.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This one was supposed to be longer and with more emotion but I think this is about when I started repressing my feelings and that reflected in my writing


	32. Deal With It (Avengers x Reader)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> I think this is the one specifically pre-Ultron thing I've ever written

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This was my 17th birthday present to myself back in December of 2016. Two years have since passed

You had noticed throughout your life that most people would have rather hidden their birthdays from the public rather than celebrated them openly. It was very much the opposite of you. If given the opportunity, you would have screamed it from a mountaintop for the whole world to hear.

When the day finally came, you woke up on the right side of the bed, a certain twinkle in your eye. You showered, dried your hair, and went so far as to style it a little. You made sure to wear your favorite shirt and your new pair of fuzzy socks.

Everything was going great. A wide variety of your favorite breakfast foods were available, and you decided that you didn't necessarily have to choose between them. In fact, why wouldn't you just make breakfast for everyone? Sam and Steve would be back from running soon, and most everyone would be down here in a few minutes. Tony was another story, but you could always put his in the microwave so that he could have it later.

You were halfway through your bowl of waffle batter when Sam and Steve walked in, ready to stretch and then eat.

"Happy birthday, kid!" Steve congratulated you, ruffling your hair.

"Watch it!" you protested. "I actually put effort into my hair this morning. Plus, I'm not a kid."

"You're younger than me. You're a kid," he argued.

"Everyone's younger than you, senior citizen," Sam chuckled.

"You're all kids, then," Steve shrugged. "What's that meme, (Y/N)?" He grabbed Clint's sunglasses from the counter, and quickly shoved them onto his face. "Deal with it?"

You and Sam both facepalmed, and Nat chose that moment to walk into the room.

"Why is the actual meme trying to quote a meme?" she asked, heading straight for the coffee machine.

"He thinks he's funny. We like to humor him," you whispered loudly to her.

"Hey!" Steve shouted.

You snatched the sunglasses from his face, put them on your own, and said, "Deal with it."

"Oh, and they're having a meme-off," Natasha muttered to Sam, picking up a waffle off of the plate that you were stacking them on. "(Y/N), did you make these?"

"Absolutely," you confirmed.

"Oh, well, then, I'm not so sure that I want to eat this..."

"Not cool, Nat."

The sunglasses were stolen once again, as Natasha pushed them over her eyes. "Deal with it."

Your mouth dropped open. "JARVIS, let it be on the record that on this day, (MM/DD), 2015, Natasha Romanoff, self-proclaimed eternal meme-hater, quoted a meme." You began to slap slowly, savoring the moment.

"Consider it documented," the AI responded.

"Consider it your birthday present, (L/N)," Natasha grumbled. She soaked her waffle in the maple syrup you had set out.

"Is it strange that I'm actually rather satisfied with that?" you shrugged.

Natasha took a bite. "Maybe a little bit. These are really good, by the way. Where did you learn to cook like this?"

You laughed. "The back of a Bisquick box, that's where. You know that I can't cook to save my life, Nat."

"Never stopped you from trying," Sam chuckled.

"Is it just National Burn (Y/N) day or something?" you asked. "This is getting a little ridiculous."

"Well," Sam began, pulling the sunglasses off of Natasha.

"Don't do it," she warned. "Don't do it, Sam."

"Deal with it," he said to both you and Natasha.

You high-fived him with a resounding smack. Your phone then buzzed in your back pocket in morse code for "F-U-R-Y." You had to have a fake contact for him, but you always ended up wondering who the heck "Carter Lastine" was and why he was in your phone. The morse code was there to remind you.

"I have to take this real quick," you said, exiting the room. "I'll be back in a few."

You tapped the button to answer the phone. "Director?"

His response was immediate. "I'm not the director of crap anymore, Agent, so stop calling me that."

"I'm not an agent of crap, Nick, so stop calling me that," you chuckled. "Old habits die hard, I guess. So what do you have for me?"

"I found something that requires your...special talents immediately," he informed you.

"Oh, how immediately are we talking here?" you asked nervously. "I mean it is my birthday, and I was hoping on catching up on some rest from a few days ago's mission."

"Sorry, (Y/N), but I need today immediately. Your assimilation abilities are absolutely necessary to rescue a couple of Hydra experiments," he explained. "They're a just a couple of kids."

"I need a location. Am I allowed to bring back up?"

"Sokovia," he told you. "And I want you to bring Romanoff. I'll send you background on who you need to impersonate."

"Okay. Thanks, Nick."

"No, thank you, (Y/N). Sorry I had to do this to you on your birthday, but I wouldn't do it unless it was completely necessary," he apologized, hanging up.

You sighed, then walked back into the kitchen. "Fury wants you and me, Nat. Looks like we're taking a trip to Sokovia to rescue a couple of kids."

"Joy," she said with her mouth full. "That's exactly what I wanted to do with my day."

You casually took the sunglasses from Sam. "Yeah, yeah, yeah. Deal with it, Tasha. It's not what I wanted to, either. Suit up. We leave in half an hour."  
\--  
"Why don't we just always send you in as Strucker? This whole 'taking down Hydra' thing would go a lot faster," Natasha remarked.

"I can only do this for so long," you defended yourself in Strucker's voice. "I haven't really tested it out, but the longest I can hold this is around a couple of hours." You continued checking your face to make sure it looked perfect.

"You could make it work," she insisted.

"With practice, yes, but right now, I just have to get the Maximoffs out of there. Assuming they want to come with us," you worried.

"Who would want to stay with Hydra? Let's be real here."

"Someone that was offered power." You were finally satisfied that everything looked perfect, and turned to Natasha. "I'll call you in if things turn sour."

"Break a leg out there, (L/N)," she said, watching you leave. "Make sure to turn on your comm. We don't want this to end up like last week."

You stepped out of the car and knocked on a tree. "Let's not jinx ourselves," you reminded her.

You walked briskly through the cold forest, and stopped just outside of the castle-like structure that the Maximoffs were being kept in to get into character. Then, you walked through the front doors with confidence, taking the most direct route to the twins' holding cells.  
\--  
They didn't want to go. Not even after you told them that it was your birthday, and that it would be the icing on the cake if they came with you. They refused, but wished you a happy birthday, and even promised not to tell anyone that you had come as a birthday present.

They were good kids. Mislead, but overall good.

You exited the room with the intention of changing back into Strucker's form and coming back a couple of minutes later to tell the twins that you had a mission for them. Then, you would...you would try to come up with something on the fly. Yes.

That very thorough planning job was ruined by Strucker himself rounding the corner and spotting you. You looked like yourself for the moment, so you nodded as you tried to walk by him, hoping to play it off. It almost worked.

Right as he walked by you, Natasha spoke through the comm, and he was able to hear it. It might have passed as normal, but what she said clued him into the fact that you weren't one of his.

"You have the twins out of there yet?" she asked.

Both your and Strucker's eyes widened, and in a knee-jerk reaction, he punched you hard on your cheekbone. You let out a grunt of pain and fell to the floor. Even as you fell, you kicked Strucker's knees so that he, too, was earthbound. He yelled out, as well, summoning the Maximoffs.

They appeared quickly, and saw their creator of sorts on the ground next to you. For some reason that would befuddle you for ages, they appeared hesitant.

Wanda shook it off and took action immediately, rushing to touch your head, showing both of you your worst fear. She recoiled rapidly, tears springing to her eyes. She could see that you were a genuinely selfless person, and that your intentions were pure.

While you were down, panicking from the visions playing in your head, Pietro ran and slammed your jaw into the floor with his superspeed. There was a resounding crack, and your head exploded in pain. Pietro didn't notice that his sister wasn't attacking anymore.

"What are you doing?" Strucker ridiculed her. "Finish the job."

Slowly and deliberately, Wanda stepped forward and touched Strucker's head. All that his fears consisted of were selfish, childish things. She made her decision right there; as bad as Tony Stark was, your side was worth more than Strucker's.

Strucker could sense the change in Wanda, and so could Pietro. The boy leaned down and apologized to you profusely, and began to help you up. Strucker, however, grumbled irately and reached into his waistband for a handgun.

Two shots were fired. One hit your stomach with a vengeance, and the other ricochetted off the other wall and embedded itself into the man that had fired it.

The twins reacted as quickly to help you as they had to fighting you only moments before. Pietro picked you up and walked slowly, so as not to jar you.

"So why have we switched sides all of a sudden?" he asked his sister.

"Strucker only ever wanted to use us. But this person and the Avengers...they really want to help us," she answered.

"Good enough for me," he smiled. "As long as you think we're doing the right thing, I will go with you."  
\--  
You woke up the following afternoon back at the tower, plugged into several machines that would not stop beeping.

"For the love of everything that is holy..." you complained, just in case anyone was listening, "will someone please turn off the alarm clock?"

You heard Natasha and the twins laugh. "We just wanted to make sure that you stayed alive and all that," Natasha explained.

"I kept saying that I could have told you that," Wanda chastised her. "I would have felt it if she died."

"That's great, but this has been the actual lamest birthday that anyone could ask for. Some of my friends are going to ask, '(Y/N), what did you get for your birthday?' And I'll have to answer, 'Oh, nothing much. Just a sound beating and a bullet to the stomach.' You know how stupid that sounds?"

"I mean, you did rescue us. You were productive with your birthday, at the very least," Pietro pointed out.

You looked at his sheepish grin. "I'm going to like the both of you a lot, aren't I? Nat, you've been replaced by these two as my best friend."

"You've literally known them for like, an hour!" she protested.

"Hey, will someone get me some sunglasses?" you requested. Pietro sped off, and was offering you Clint's sunglasses within a second. "Thanks, bud. And Nat--" you put the sunglasses on, only wincing a little bit. "Deal with it."


	33. What About My Ears? (surprise pt 2) (Thor x Reader)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Love me that Christmas spirit

"So, Prince Thor, explain to me this 'Christmas' again," you requested. "I still don't really understand this Midgardian tradition. There's nothing like it on Alfheim." You had been on Midgard for about eight months now, and this was your first time experiencing Christmas. Thor had brought you to celebrate with his friends, the Avengers. You were discussing the subject over breakfast.

"As I have told you many times, (Y/N), I am not the prince of anything anymore. I've given up any claim that I have to Asgard's throne," he insisted. He took another sip of his coffee. You had tried the stuff, but found it too bitter for your liking.

"It is a habit that will not go away. Now, please, what exactly is Christmas?"

"It's a time where everyone comes together to be of good cheer and exchange gifts with one another," he began. "Everyone is able to put aside their contentions for a few days, if not forever. It is a truly magical day in its own right."

"If this is what you say it is, then I am very excited to participate in this with you and your friends. I'm afraid that I don't have anything for them, but I do not expect them to have anything for me, either," you shrugged.

"They do not even know that you're coming, my dear," Thor smiled. "And do not worry about gifts. I have that under control."

"What do you mean about that?"

"You will see, come the 25th. Until then, you will just have to wait," he teased you.

"You must know--I was the impatient child, growing up in Alfheim. I brought much shame to my family with my restlessness."

"Patience is a virtue; you will have to learn that sooner or later in life, and in my experience, sooner is better than later," he counseled.

"If you say so, love. I will do my best to wait...patiently...until the 25th of December," you promised. "It is only three days away, after all."  
\--  
Time passed more quickly than you would have thought. The girls, Wanda, Natasha, and Maria, had taken you shopping later that day. As it had turned out, they had drawn names out of a hat, or rather, Steve's helmet, for exchanging gifts the previous night, and so they were as giftless as you were. They looked for things for their people, and you looked for something for Thor, since you weren't part of their gift exchange.

It was surprising to you that they actually seemed to enjoy your company. They said that they liked your "spunk" and your "sass", whatever that meant. Not many people, besides Thor, had met you and liked you immediately. Maybe people were simply less judgmental in Midgard than in Alfheim.

You saw many things that Thor may have appreciated, but none that were really perfect for him. You decided on something that you could make with your bare hands. Elves were known for their considerable skill in crafting things, from weaponry to jewelry. You settled to buy a few rolls of leather cord, wire, and a couple of packages of glass beads.

Christmas Eve seemed to be almost as big a deal as Christmas itself. Everyone helped to cook dinner, and everyone sat down and ate it together. You were all talkative, loudly enjoying each other's presence. There was teasing about romance going around the table, you and Thor receiving most of it. You did your best to remain calm, but were flustered by the amount of attention directed at you. Thor was used to it, having been the center of attention for most of his life.

As dinner wrapped up, everything seemed slower. Time crawled by, but the air of contentedness persisted. After eating so much, people were tired and sluggish, but still garrulous. You leaned against Thor on one of the couches, and the both of you drifted off.

You woke suddenly in the middle of the night in a panic; you hadn't yet finished Thor's present. You had started it, but you had planned on taking a few hours to finish it before heading to bed. You looked at the clock, gauging how much time you would have to complete it, and were dissatisfied.

It was three in the morning. Thor woke up early, and you were unsure if you would be able to finish before he did. It was important that you did, as he was rather perceptive when it came to you. You had noticed that his friends treated him as if he were incredibly dull, but you knew that he was much more than that. They would seem stupid on Asgard or Alfheim because it wasn't their realm.

Carefully, you moved out of Thor's embrace so as not to wake him. You backed away slowly so that you wouldn't make much noise, and made your way to the room that Thor's friends had been kind enough to provide you. You pulled out the half-finished beaded leather chain that you had been working on.

That part didn't require a lot of focus. It was the wire charm that you were worried about. You were going to attempt to weave the knot that appeared on the side of Thor's hammer with the thin wire.

While your mind woke up, you finished the leather strap so that you could have your full focus on the charm. You braided and strung beads almost mindlessly; it was a habit to perform complicated actions with your hands to make something beautiful. You were finished with that before half-past three.

However, you hadn't worked with wire in ages. It was more difficult than you remembered to bend the thin metal to your will, but with some coaxing, you were able to make a beautiful, intricate charm. It was almost six before you were ready to pull your last party trick, but you were so fatigued from so many hours of unbroken focus that you decided to lay down on the bed and take a quick power nap.

You were asleep until 8:30. You only woke because you heard someone open the door. Unaware of your previous intentions, the time, or anything else important, you curled deeper into the bed, hoping that they would just leave you be.

"(Y/N), did you make this?" Thor asked you, holding the leather and charm in his hands delicately. You realized that he was not supposed to be in here and that the sun was not supposed to be shining through the curtains that brightly, and you bolted upright.

"You were not meant to see that!" you cried. "It is not yet finished!"

"Oh!" he set them gently on the desk and turned his back to them. "I have seen nothing. What are you talking about?"

You smiled at his attempt to unsee your gift. "It is too late now. You know my surprise, and so it is rather pointless now, is it not?"

"You did say that it was unfinished as of now. I don't know how much more spectacular it can look. Your surprise is not ruined, but furthered," he tried to fix the situation. "But you must come now. Tony made breakfast, and he is a more fantastic cook than I realized."

In Thor's words, breakfast was fantastic. Tony admitted that he'd gotten FRIDAY to find the best recipes, and he had just followed them, but it was impressive all the same. You ate, but you were very nervous as to how you would be able to impress Thor to his expectations of what you were planning.

You were the first to finish breakfast, and you rushed to your room to finish the charm. You gathered your energy and tried to cast a spell on the metal to make it unbendable, but only sparks came from your fingers.

All elves had the capability to use magic, but most chose not to. Part of the reason that you were a little estranged in Alfheim was that you developed your talents in magic. On Alfheim, you would have been able to pull off this little trick and more, but Midgard was a sort of dead zone for you. None of your magic was working.

You heard people calling you in for the gift exchange, and you had no choice but to take the necklace as it was. Maybe you could try again with people surrounding you? A crowd had always seemed to help you.

The gift exchange couldn't have been complete without pranks. More than one trick gift was placed under the tree, as was to be expected with a group of people who spent all their time with each other. No matter how many pranks were pulled, no one could be mad at anyone. The real gifts were thought-through and had sentimental value to them.

Then came your turn to give what you had to Thor.

"I-it's still not done," you confessed. "I can try again to finish it, but I might have to finish it somewhere with more magic."

"There's no more magic on Earth than around a Christmas tree on Christmas morning," Steve said. "I'll bet that you can do something here."

"If you say so," you mumbled. You took a breath, then summoned magic to your being. To your surprise, the captain was right. Magic flowed right to your fingertips, and in your surprise, you overcharged the pendant. Golden light shot from your fingertips into it, and everyone gasped.

What had been flimsy wire was now hard steel, looking as if it had been made with a mold and not your weaving talents. It almost glowed with the power that it carried. It was a beautiful sight, and you could tell that you had far surpassed everyone's expectations.

"This...this is amazing. It's unlike anything I've ever seen before," Thor remarked. "Thank you."

"It was almost effortless, really," you smiled. "It just took a little magic." You turned to Steve. "Christmas magic."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Round 11 or the contest, which I don't remember the outcome of. I probably won lol


	34. Dialogue Prompts (December 2016)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> There's a big long list of dialogue prompts that I like to bring out every once in a while for requests. I allow up to 3 prompts per request and I make each one at minimum 500 words long. Here's to December 2016

**Prompt 23: "Do I look like I want to dance?" (Phil Coulson x Maria Hill)**

**This also fits into my dad!Coulson AU**

Maria walked into Agent Coulson's office, prepared to give him the file for their upcoming undercover mission. They were assigned to act as a married couple for a couple of months, supervising a company that was coming out with technology exactly identical to SHIELD's.

What Maria found was Coulson straightening up his office with some classic Louis Armstrong jazz playing in the background. His dancing was so terrible that it was wonderful. His attempts at shaking his hips and moving his feet at the same time were disastrous, in sharp contrast to his skills in slow dancing.

The agent almost wanted to go find Coulson's daughter, (Y/N), so that they could laugh together, but the girl's personality grated on her sometimes. Today was an especially bad day, as she had been informed that her father and Maria were assigned to the mission that they were. The teasing was constant.

She preferred to enjoy this by herself. Coulson was kind of an awkward guy, to begin with, but this bad dancing made the whole thing even better. He was usually very restrained around other people, but this was pure Phil Coulson at his finest. Maria made sure not to make any noise so as to be able to watch longer. He would notice eventually, but for now, ignorance was bliss.

The music changed to a waltz, something that Phil could actually do very well. It still looked funny without a partner, and it was actually while he was spinning his pretend partner that he noticed Maria standing in the doorway of his office.

He froze immediately, arm still in the air. "How...how long have you been standing there?" he asked.

"Long enough," she replied, grinning.

"Ah." He dropped his arms from their positions, stuffing them in his pockets. "Um, want to dance?" he offered, smiling awkwardly.

" **Does it look like I want to dance?** " she questioned him.

He shrugged. "Maybe? Yes?"

She sighed, walking towards him. "Fine, as long as we choose a swing dance. That's all I know how to do."

"I learned a few moves at high school dances," Phil remarked. He went to change the song to Footloose. She stepped out of her heels and set them by the wall. They began the fast-paced steps required to swing. "Hey, this might help us get into character," he pointed out."

"Shut up, would you? Just because I know how to do it does not mean that I can do it without paying attention," she said.

They continued dancing together in silence for the rest of the song. Phil's Spotify playlist chose an 80's slow song, and he changed positions to accommodate the switch in music style. Reluctantly, Maria changed as well.

You walked into the room with the intention of sharing the lunch you had just bought with your father. You paused in the doorway, admiring the sort-of couple dancing together.

"Aren't you two just precious?" you gushed.

Maria jumped away from your father. "We were just getting into character," she claimed, stepping back into her heels. "Nothing else."

"Sure," you grinned. "Whatever you say, 'Ria, if it helps you feel better." The smile you had plastered on your face wouldn't drop. "I'm gonna ask Fury for clearance to go with you two. A boring couple like you needs an eccentric daughter. See ya in a few, Mom."

"No, there is no need to do that, and definitely do not call me 'Mom'," Maria tried to dissuade you, but you were already gone.

"Did she just call me boring?" your father tried to process.

"No, she called us boring. There's a big difference."

"She's 18. She does fit with us, I guess, and it makes us that more believable," he theorized. "She is actually my daughter, after all, and her mother would be about your age, were she still alive."

"Yeah, she's our embarrassing teenage daughter," Maria grumbled.

"You came along later. She can certainly just be my embarrassing daughter if that helps."

"Fury's going to clear it, just to test me, I know it," she complained, pinching the bridge of her nose.

The intercom system crackled, and Fury's voice came over it. "(Y/N) is definitely going with you."

 

**Prompt 4: "For some reason, I'm attracted to you." (bff!Natasha Romanoff x Reader)**

How many times would you defer to this game on game night? Sure, it was a drama club favorite that you had brought with you, but it wasn't something that was meant to be played constantly. You weren't very good at it, so that didn't help your position on it.

Bucky walked around the circle for the fifth time that night. He was surprisingly bad at this game for the superspy that he was. He strolled at a comfortable pace, searching everyone's faces for the easiest victim. Why did he stop at you? You were doing really well today. Two other people had approached you and been beaten.

He came around to your back and set his chin on your shoulder. "Honey," he began quietly, "I love you, and if you love me, will you please--" he grabbed your wrist and spun you quickly into his arms, where your noses were barely an inch apart. His voice grew very deep and gravelly, like he was doing a Batman impression, as he said, "Smile?"

You were on the brink of smiling, but you broke eye contact to recompose yourself, rolling your eyes. "Honey, I love you," you started. Bucky raised his eyebrows comically, and you lost it. "But I just can't--gah! Smile!" you exclaimed, laughing.

Bucky slapped your back. "Into the center with you, punk!" he called.

"Yeah, yeah, I'm going," you said. You began your walk of shame around the circle, searching out your target. Steve was pretty good at this, but only one person in the circle could break him, and that wasn't you. Tony was like stone, today was one of Wanda's good days, Vision was disqualified indefinitely, Bruce broke if someone so much as thought about walking up to him, and that was no fun. He was more of a last resort.

Then you saw Natasha. She was staring holes in the ground and biting her lip so hard that it looked like it was drawing blood. You smirked and walked seductively toward her. Her breath quickened, and she refused to look up at you.

You grabbed her hands from where they were clenched tightly behind her back and held them tightly in yours. They were freezing. You pressed her cold fingers up against your face to warm them up. She hated going into the circle, and it looked like you just might drag her in.

"Honey," you spoke through your squished mouth. " **For some reason, I'm attracted to you**."

That was all you had to say before she broke, laughing so hard that she coughed and snorted. "You caught me on a bad day, you jerk!" she cried. "I hate you so much, oh my gosh!"

"You know that you love me somewhere in that cold black void of yours," you teased, scrunching up your nose and blowing a fake kiss at her.

She pretended to catch it, throw it on the ground, and stomp on it violently. "You're the actual worst, you know that, (Y/N)?"

"I try, Tasha, I try."

 

**Prompt 8: "No one's going to hurt you, okay?" (Phil Coulson/brother!Grant Ward x Reader)**

"He cares about me, yeah, but we have to find our sister before he gets to her," Thomas pleaded. "How much he loves her makes me look like nothing."

Coulson raised his eyebrows. "That's impressive. So, where do we find her?"  
\--  
You were sitting at a cafe table alone, sipping your soda and munching on some wedge fries, glancing around you nervously, when Thomas and Coulson found you. They approached you cautiously, not wanting to alert you to anything suspicious. "(Y/N) Ward?" Coulson asked you.

Your eyes widened as you saw one of your brothers and a man in a dark suit coming towards you. You didn't register which one of your brothers it was, but you got up as quickly as you could and tried to run away, ditching your fries. You didn't want to have anything to do with any of your brothers anymore. It was safer that way.

"(Y/N), wait, please!" Thomas called to you.

You stopped and turned back, relieved. "Oh, thank goodness, Thomas, it's you. I thought you might have been Grant for a second, and..." you sighed. "I don't know what to do anymore."

"Come with us," Coulson suggested. "We can keep you safe from Grant and Hydra."

Thomas walked forward and pulled you into a tight embrace. You let your tears spill out of your eyes. "I'm so scared, Tommy," you whispered.

" **No one's going to hurt you, okay?** " he reassured you, stroking your hair.

"But Grant might!" you exclaimed. "No one knows where he is, and he already hurt Christian, our parents, and if he finds us, we're right on his list!"

"Hey, listen to me, okay? You and I come with these guys, and we're completely safe. Grant won't be able to find us, and these guys'll catch him. They'll make us safe again."

"How can you be sure?"

Thomas looked around, wondering why he was so sure. "I guess I just am."

"Let's discuss this on the jet," Coulson said. "We need to be gone two minutes ago. Get your fries and come with me."  
\--  
"You're gonna share those, right, (Y/N)?" Thomas asked you, staring your fries down hungrily. Despite the stress of the situation, you two were definitely still siblings.

"I mean, if you want some, take some," you replied, noncommittally holding out the paper tray to him.

"Oh, no, it's fine. I'm not--"

"Tommy, if you're hungry, eat. What's the point of asking for them and then refusing them?"

"If you put it that way," he took a few and shoved them in his mouth.

"You never were exactly the daintiest eater, were you," you groaned, pinching the bridge of your nose.

He grinned with his mouth full of fried potato. "Nope."

Coulson reached over and touched a fry with his index finger. "You don't mind if I--"

"Oh, dude, go ahead," you permitted, pushing the tray in his direction, as well. "It's the least I can do in return for what you're doing for me."

"Thanks. I haven't really eaten anything all day, so...yeah, thanks."

 

**Prompts 20, 30, and 41: "No, what you need is some pizza and a hug." "There's nothing I can do about it." "You call that a kiss?" (bff!Natasha/Peter Parker x Reader)**

Your head dropped onto the table again. "This doesn't make any sense," you groaned."

Natasha looked over your shoulder at your homework. " **There's nothing I can do about it** ," she shrugged. "I bet you could get Parker to help you.

Your cheeks flamed pink. "Why would he want to do this? He's like three levels ahead of me," you reasoned.

"Why wouldn't he want to help you?" she teased.

"Shut up," you pleaded. "All I need right now is silence. You're not very good at that."

" **No, what you need is some pizza and a hug** \--the latter from a certain Spidey," she suggested.

"Nat, no! Stop!"

"The more you deny it, the more that I know it's true," she said in a sing-song voice.

"What's true?" the devil himself asked, walking over to where you and Natasha were bantering.

"Nat can't help with math to save her life," you squeaked, the tips of your ears burning.

"I can," he offered innocently. He had no clue, clueless little cutie. "What are you doing right now?"

"Um...trig. Yes," you replied awkwardly.

"Oh! I can definitely help you, then," he smiled.

"It's like a study date! You two are so cute!" Natasha gushed.

"It's not a study date, I'm just...helping her out," Peter claimed.

"Yeah, Nat, that's it," you emphasized. "Leave us alone."

"I don't know if I want to leave you alone," Natasha grimaced. "I feel like that would be a bad idea."

"We're not going to do anything! Right, Peter?"

You turned to your friend, who was as red as you felt. "Nothin' but study," he supported you.

"Fine, don't admit your undying love to each other," Natasha fumed, storming off. "Your choice to remain in awkwardness forever." She joined in a conversation at the bar with a couple of other Avengers, who were quickly clearing out the pizza boxes.

"So, uh," Peter started, "how did you end up doing trig at the trainee sleepover?"

"This is my last chance to do it before it's due on Monday," you responded.

"Ah, busy weekend planned?"

"Oh, dude, you have no idea," you groaned. "I mean, tonight's Friday, and you know that we're not going to have any free time tomorrow..."

"And no time Sunday, either?"

You shook your head. "So, if I want to live until next Saturday, I have to finish this."

"It's not that bad, is it?"

You have him a skeptical look. "You want to find out?"

"Nope, okay, then. Let's get this done, then," he agreed.

Natasha crept back over. "How's my favorite high-school superhero couple doing?" she asked.

"Go away, Nat. Your presence is not necessary," you hinted.

"Nope, I want to see some (L/N)/Parker action over here," she said.

You sighed, stood up quickly, and pressed a quick kiss to Peter's warm, red cheek. Natasha threw back her head and laughed.

" **You call that a kiss?** "

 

**Prompts 2 and 7: "I was waiting for you. You never came." "Please stop doing that to yourself." (Tony Stark x Reader)**

_12:00 ___

__Midnight._ _

__He had told you to wait for him until midnight, then leave if he didn't show. You couldn't leave him, though. Five more minutes._ _

___12:05_ _ _

__Five past midnight._ _

__"Come on, Tony," you whispered to yourself nervously. "It's been three hours. What are you still doing down there?" Just five more minutes, and then you would go._ _

___12:10_ _ _

__Ten past midnight._ _

__Loud footsteps alerted you to someone boarding the quinjet. You turned around, ready to scold Tony for taking so long, but, as you discovered, it's a difficult thing to force words out of your mouth when a Hydra agent hurls a knife into your stomach._ _

__The black-clothed figure walked away as you fell to the ground. "Get...back...here..." you said, your voice growing raspy already. Your vision was growing blurry, and in a last-ditch attempt to score some revenge, you pulled the knife out and tried to throw it back at the silent assailant. It barely went three feet._ _

___12:15_ _ _

__A quarter past midnight._ _

__Too late, Tony came back. "(Y/N), I told you to leave--(Y/N)!" he exclaimed as he realized why you hadn't left. He dropped to your side and lifted you out of the pool of your own blood and tore your shirt open so that he could see the wound._ _

__His face blanched almost as pale as yours. The most he could do now was to order FRIDAY to fly the jet home and bandage you up himself. The rest was up to fate._ _

___12:20_ _ _

__20 minutes past midnight._ _

__He needed more bandages and cloth to soak up the blood. His breaths shortened, and his hands began to tingle._ _

__"Not the time," he scolded the oncoming anxiety attack. His knees joined in with the tingling, then specific parts of his face. He tried to slow his breathing, but that wasn't working for him. The more he tried to calm himself, the more worked up he became. "Stop, just stop!" he commanded the tears escaping from his eyes._ _

___He brought himself to the ground and put his head between his knees. He gripped his head, hoping that the pressure would somehow change the chemical reactions in his brain. At this rate, it would be a miracle if both of you made it out alive._  
\--  
He was still sore about it for months. He was so angry at himself that he would blow up at the slightest thing, including you. He wouldn't talk about it, he would deny still being worked up about it, but you knew otherwise. 

__You tried so many times to approach him about it, but he wouldn't hear anything. He was fixated on everything being his fault._ _

__You snapped after you caught him looking at you from the other side of the lab with the face of a kicked puppy. You placed your pen by your clipboard, and told Bruce, "Give me a second."_ _

__"Finally," he muttered._ _

__You walked briskly over to Tony's workspace and tried not to roll your eyes at his bad attempt at pretending like he wasn't paying attention. You were sick of how he was acting, as was everyone else in the tower._ _

__You placed your hands carefully on the desk, and said quietly, " **I was waiting for you** until midnight. **You never came.** I gave you five more minutes. Nothing. Five more. Surprise attack." Your voice grew steadily louder as your anger grew, and Tony's emotions rose to match yours. "I was too stubborn to leave as you told me to. It's all on me, okay?" you shouted._ _

__"No, not okay!" he shot back, just as loud, if not louder than you were. "I took too long, then you waited. It's my fault; just let me deal with it."_ _

__"Tony, **please stop doing that to yourself** ," you pleaded. "You're not dealing with it. You're just letting it burn holes in you. Why? Why can't you just let it go?"_ _

__"Because I love you, dang it!" he yelled._ _

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> After Prompts 20, 30, and 41, we officially crossed into 2017


	35. I Couldn't Leave You (Thor x Reader)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Thor is a little more perceptive than you'd like

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Dedicated to my friend Liv

Your world was falling apart around you. It wasn't a slow breakdown, either. It came as suddenly as an earthquake, and you hoped that it would be over just as quickly. You had always heard, though, that an earthquake might last for 20 seconds, but for those experiencing it, it felt like two years.

To cope, you resorted to reading bad fanfiction about your friends and working yourself half to death. It was easier to hide your emotions while you worked, plus you got a lot of baked goodies out of it. Those helped to drown the sorrows, too.

Everyone was getting a little worried about you as they began to notice the sheer amount of cookies and cupcakes that you were producing. After you quite convincingly told them that everything was fine, all except for one of the Avengers pretty much left your emotional state to yourself, and that was your best friend.

Thor would sit at the counter at the kitchen island, and a conversation might go like this:

"If something is wrong, (Y/N), you know that you are able to tell me," Thor might say.

You would smile and reply, "Thor, I promise, everything's fine. I've just felt like baking a lot, that's all." He would then try to say something about how he felt like you were lying to him, but you would cut him off, saying, "Here, try this cookie dough, real quick, would you?"

He wouldn't be able to refuse that, as if there was one thing that Thor loved, it was cookie dough.

Today, though, today was different.

"(Y/N), I feel like you're trying to fatten us all up and eat us," Thor commented.

"That doesn't sound like a bad idea, now that you mention it," you shrugged rolling out the dough for cinnamon rolls.

"That's called cannibalism, is it not?" he replied, smiling.

"I could probably market you guys as Earth's Tastiest Heroes," you smirked. "I can see it now. The Avengers would be enjoyed as snacks all over the globe."

"(Y/N)!" Thor exclaimed, a little mortified. "That's absolutely horrible!"

"Well, you would be. You'd be all tough. Actually, you guys are all pretty well muscled. You'd all be terrible," you remarked, grimacing. "We can forget the Earth's Tastiest Heroes thing, it's a terrible idea."

Thor stared at you, absolutely disgusted. "Midgardians are so strange," he mumbled.

"It's a joke, bud. I would never actually kill you and sell you for meat," you laughed. You spread melted butter over the dough, then reached for the cinnamon and cinnamon chips.

"Well, I know that," Thor covered, "but that's a terrible thing to joke about."

"Terrible jokes to match the terrible person," you said nonchalantly.

Silence hung in the air like a pirate hanging from the gallows. Thor's mouth hung open in disbelief at how willingly you shamed yourself.

"That...that was a joke, too, Thor."

"You cannot joke about these things!" he snapped. "You are worth so much more than you believe yourself to be."

You shook your head and rolled up the dough into a spiral. "I don't know what version of me you've tricked yourself into seeing," you replied.

Thor stood up quickly, almost knocking over his barstool. He stomped over to you, and as you whipped around to face him, extremely confused and a little frightened at the angry look on his face, he picked you up.

"Hey! What's the big--woah!" you shrieked as he slung you over his shoulder. "Thor, put me down! Put me down right now!"

He responded by walking briskly into the living room, but that was not fast enough for you.

"My hands are covered in gross stuff that you do not want to get on your shirt, so I suggest that you set me down gently before I decide to wipe my hands off," you threatened.

"It will come out. I do not fear you, (Y/N)," he laughed. He finally set you down on the couch, told you to stay, and got you a wet paper towel to wipe your hands off. He sat down on the couch the way that Tony hated him to sit, which was to say, with his back resting on one of the armrests and his crossed under him. You did the same, resting your elbows on your knees.

"What's the point of this?" you asked.

Thor took a deep breath. "You cannot lie to me anymore, (Y/N). Tell me what is wrong."

"Oh my gosh. You're bringing this up again?" you groaned. "Thor, I promise, I'm fine."

"No, you're not!" he insisted. "I wouldn't have to keep asking you if you were fine. I can see it in your eyes."

"Waste of time," you complained. "I'm going to go finish my cinnamon rolls now."

You got up, but Thor pulled you back down. "Talk to me, please. I have the right to know whether or not you've been lying to me."

"Yes, okay! I don't need anyone worrying about me. I can deal with my own problems, Thor. I'm not that self-deprecating little teenager that the Avengers picked up all those years ago," you stated angrily.

"You've grown older, but your habits have not changed," Thor argued. "You were brought here not only because of your extraordinary talent, but because your father was worried about you, as well."

"Hawkeye needs to learn how to mind his own business," you grumbled.

"I thank the gods every day that he didn't," he said honestly. "You're...how did you say that your friend said it? A ray of positive negativity?"

You nodded, a look of confusion on your face. "Where are you going with this?" you asked.

"Have you noticed how much you affect the mood of the compound? You are the youngest of us by many years, but you are the equivalent of the mother of this peculiar family," he expressed.

"Nat and Wanda sure as heck weren't going to do it," you said, rolling your eyes. "Someone had to step up, and I figured that it might as well have been me before Steve tried."

"Yes, Captain Rogers has a rather strong maternal instinct," Thor agreed. "Thankfully, your appearance has seemed to turn it off, for now, otherwise I feel that he would have been having this conversation with you a long time ago."

"Is that why you're having this conversation with me, then? To satisfy your maternal instinct?" you teased.

Thor laughed, his loud, booming chuckle filling the whole room. "You may call it that, if you wish, but I like to think of it as my duty as your friend," he claimed.

"Mama Thor," you giggled. "It's almost better than Earth's Tastiest Heroes." The giggle became a cackle. "Come on, Mama Thor, we have cinnamon rolls to finish making." You got up and began to walk back to the kitchen.

"Please, do not insist on calling me that," he groaned, pushing himself up.

"It's sticking. I'm sorry, but if it sticks, there's nothing more that I can do about it," you shrugged.

You felt so much better. You felt as if you had been carrying a ton of rocks, and now, there was still a weight on your shoulders, but it wasn't so heavy. It was as if you had shared it.

You turned back suddenly and wrapped your arms around your friend. "Thank you," you said.

"Do not thank me. I was just fulfilling my duty," he smiled.


	36. Save Me (dad!Steve Rogers x Reader)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> And Steve is a little less perceptive than you'd like

"(Y/N)."

You were off in your own world, unable to hear your father trying to catch your attention. Focusing had been hard lately. It was your inability to pay attention that had almost cost you your life on a mission yesterday, but luckily, Captain America had stepped in.

Not your dad--Captain America. There was a big difference.

"(Y/N)?"

Your dad was your favorite person. The father-daughter relationship was healthy and well kept. You had traditions full of ice cream, chocolate, movies, and lunch dates, no matter the time of the month. You could tell him anything and he told you everything. There weren't secrets between you two.

"(Y/N)!"

You looked up innocently to meet the eyes of Captain America, a man that you could honestly say that you hated.

"(Y/N), what was the last thing that I said?" Cap asked you accusingly.

"Something about how I'm careless in the field and need to pay more attention to my surroundings?" you said hopefully.

He let out a sigh, and his face dropped into his hand. "(Y/N), that was five minutes ago."

"I guess I was spacing," you apologized.

"No kidding," he scoffed. "This is just like yesterday."

"What happened yesterday?" Natasha asked.

"You said that you wouldn't tell anyone!" you whined.

"It came up, so I had to say something," he justified.

"Yeah, because you brought it up."

"Rogers!" Sam shouted, knowing that it would shut both of you up. "Tell us what happened yesterday. We have the right to know."

"You want to tell them, (Y/N)?" Cap gave you the chance.

Given the lump forming in your throat, you didn't trust yourself to speak. You shook your head, staring down and the table.

"She almost got herself killed," he summed up. He didn't say anything after that, leaving the details to the imagination. No one else was much help, as they had all gone silent. "Right, so, other than that, mission accomplished?" he tried to move on.

"You can't just say something like that and not give us details," Rhodey frowned.

"It's like just now. She can't focus for more than five minutes at a time before she goes to la la land."

"Context?" Wanda demanded.

"I found her just staring at a time bomb, watching the clock tick down," he explained.

"That's not what was going on!" you shouted suddenly, not caring about the quality of your voice.

"Then tell me what was!" Cap fired back.

"What does it even matter? It's not like you're going to listen to me," you stated. Unable to take any more of the soldier that replaced your father, you stood up and stormed out of the meeting room, blinking back tears.

"We're not done yet!" he called after you.

"I am," you grumbled to yourself. You went up to your room and told FRIDAY not to let anyone in without your permission.  
\--  
Tony graciously offered to take you to school the next morning. You didn't know whether or not to be relieved that you didn't have to face your father, but you didn't know which side of him you'd see. Captain America would just criticize you some more, while Steve would insist that he was the one to blame.

For the first few minutes of the ride, you did nothing but sit silently and stare at the breakfast that you were supposed to be eating. You really weren't hungry. Come to think of it, you hadn't actually felt like eating in a while.

"Spacing again?" Tony asked, a small smile playing on his lips.

You looked up at him in surprise, a blush rising to your cheeks. "Um, no--well, yes, kinda? I just can't remember if I can eat in your car or not," you attempted to cover, but he just chuckled.

"I don't care if you eat in my car, but I'm going to go out on a limb guess that you're not going to eat it, anyway."

Your brows furrowed in confusion. "What do you mean?"

"You haven't been eating a lot recently, but you're not complaining about it. You haven't been able to get to sleep easy, and what little sleep you do get isn't so good. You can't pay attention very well, and progress on homework and other things that you used to make quick work of is a lot slower than it used to be," he listed. "Tell me if I'm wrong."

Your mouth hung open. "Are you using FRIDAY to stalk me?"

He laughed again. "Nah, kid, that would be creepy. I just know because that used to be me. I can see myself in you, which is really weird, considering that you're not even a little bit related to me," he grimaced. "But it's all the same. Now, I don't know how much experience Cap has with dealing with this crap, but I know that Steve just wants to be there for you."

"You--you do it, too," you noticed.

"Do what?"

"You refer to Cap and my dad as different."

"It's because they are. It's not like the guy has split personalities, it's just that he has two frames of mind," he agreed.

"A soldier and a regular guy," you added.

"Exactly. And it's only natural for you to favor the regular guy," he said. He pulled into the school parking lot. "Just remember that he's trying his best. You can leave the food in here." He reached over and opened the glove compartment to reveal assorted bags of cereal. "Choose one of those instead."

"Thanks, Tony," you said. You smiled at him, grabbed a bag of Cinnamon Toast Crunch, and got out of the car.

"Have a better day than yesterday," he encouraged. "It's not going to be hard, but it's always a good thing to have in mind."  
\--  
Your high school building was almost a hundred years old, so in the long run, it didn't come as much of a surprise when the boiler kind of...exploded. Most of the explosion was contained in the boiler room itself, but unfortunately, your 6th-hour classroom was almost right above it.

The cinder blocks surrounding the door--the only way in and out of the classroom--collapsed in on the doorway. Thankfully, the floors were holding up just fine, but as alarms began to blare, everyone, including the teacher, was scared out of their mind.

People started to rapid-fire express their worries, hyperventilating and crying until you picked up your chair and slammed it into the one wall that wasn't cinder block. That shut them up.

"Come on, this is the quickest way to get out of here," you explained, hitting the wall again. Others cautiously did the same with their own chairs, but as you started to break through, that wall collapsed in on itself, as well. "This sucks," you complained. "Let's work on breaking through this wall."  
\--  
Steve's phone buzzed from his front pocket. He was talking with Tony about you, completely unsuspecting of the emergency notification that he'd received.

"Explosion at your child's school. The following students and teachers are unaccounted for." it read. Tony looked over at the notification and frowned. He swiped the notification, and a short list of names popped up. Steve scrolled to the end of the list, and his heart dropped when he saw your name on it. He and Tony looked at each other fearfully.

"Go, Steve," Tony commanded his friend. "Save her."

He wasted no time, except for grabbing the shield. He had a funny feeling that he would need it. He made up for that lost time by driving almost ten miles per hour over the speed limit.

He talked to the first school officials that he saw, and they directed him to the firemen, who were preparing to enter the building and look for the people who were still missing.

"Thanks for joining us, Captain Rogers," the chief said. "Which class is your kid in?"

"Just call me Steve," he said. "She's in Andersen's 6th hour, I think."

"You take that one with Newton, Leibniz, and Bernoulli, then. Best of luck," the Fire Chief offered.

The three men walked as calmly as they could into the building. The power was iffy, so the lights kept flickering on and off. Steve could only imagine what you were doing right now.

He didn't have to wait long, however, as with a grunt, you finally broke through the cinder blocks with your now very deformed chair.

"We did it!" you called back into the classroom, not taking care to notice the four men looking at you. You set down your chair and said, "Come on, the exit is--" You bumped into what you thought was another brick wall, but as you looked at it, you realized that it was your father. "Dad?"

He wrapped you into a tight embrace. "Are you okay?" he asked earnestly.

"Yeah, I'm fine," you replied. "Why are you here?"

"They said that you were unaccounted for. I had to come to find you and make sure that you were safe."

You looked up into his eyes, and what you saw coupled with his response told you that he was definitely your dad hugging you, wearing the brown leather jacket and carrying the vibranium shield.

Your dad would always be Steve Rogers, the best dad in the world, and Steve Rogers, Captain America. You were okay with that. He would always be there for you, and that was what mattered.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Round 12 of the contest, which I lost. Probably because I won so much and there were more entries than usual that time


	37. Sherlock (dad!Scott Lang/Peter Parker x Reader)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> I can confirm that playing a string instrument (not a guitar, sorry) makes you 10,000% more attractive

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Where my fellow cellists at?

"At it again, Sherlock?" your dad commented, smiling at you from the doorway of your room.

Startled, you put your violin down. He'd been doing this to you since you started playing when you were in fourth grade, but it never failed to give you a minor heart attack.

"No, no, no!" Scott protested. "Keep playing! I'll leave if it helps."

"It's fine, Dad, you just scared me," you said. You put the instrument on your shoulder again and attempted to get back into the piece you were practicing, but playing was so much more awkward with someone watching you. You set the violin back down on your knee, and let out a sigh of frustration.

"See? I mess you up every time I come in," he asserted. "Let me know if you need anything. I'll probably be watching Little Einsteins or whatever with your sister."

"Have fun," you said sarcastically.

"So much fun," he rolled his eyes, emphasizing the 'so.'

Once he was gone, you took a deep breath, popped your knuckles, rolled your shoulders back, and put your violin back up. You loved the piece you were playing for your orchestra class. It was a really good arrangement of themes from Pirates of the Caribbean, and it was so easy to just run through the whole thing, from melody to melody.

Your dad called you Sherlock because, like the fictional detective, playing your violin helped you to focus and think. The rhythmic back-and-forth motions of your right arm paired with the precise positioning of the fingers triggered something in your mind that created answers, or at least pathways to answers that you needed.

You were interrupted once again maybe just fifteen minutes later by Cassie running into your room, demanding, "Stop playing! I can't hear my show when you play your violin."

"Okay, okay," you conceded. You put your violin back into its case and went out into the living room to see why Scott hadn't stopped Cassie from stopping you. You saw him laying down on the couch, fast asleep already. "Good job, Dad," you congratulated him quietly, mostly talking to yourself. "It's an actual talent to fall asleep that fast."

"What?" he muttered sleepily. He opened one of his eyes just a little bit.

"Go to your bed, nerd," you laughed.

"But I'm so comfortable right here," he moaned.

"Sure, but you always complain about your neck being sore after you fall asleep on the couch," you pointed out.

"Good point," he agreed. Even as he said the words, he was falling asleep again.

You sighed and walked over to him. You tried with much difficulty to lift him up by sliding your hands under his shoulder and pulling, grunting, "Come on. It's time for bed for you, Dad."

"I don't wanna."

"Yes, you do, you big baby. Come on," you encouraged, still grunting from the strain of trying to lift his weight up.

"You're so mean," he whined, sitting up on his own. He yawned, stretched, then got up and walked the path to his room. "Night, Sherlock. Love you," he told you before disappearing into his room for the night.

"Love you too," you said reflexively. You turned to your sister. "You know what this means, Cass?" you asked her.

"You get to tuck me in!" she cheered. You shushed her quickly. "You get to tuck me in!" she whisper-yelled.

"Let's get your jammies on," you whisper-yelled right back.  
\--  
After your first-hour orchestra class the next morning, you had a second-hour release. You usually used it for practicing further, but today, you had invited your friend and long-time crush, Peter Parker, to study with you. You had told him that he could just come to the band/orchestra room, as you were usually the only one in there. He had a study hall, so it worked out perfectly.

You completely forgot.

You hadn't ever really played your violin in front of your friends before, and especially not Peter. He would probably get you even more flustered than when your dad walked into your room when you were playing, but flustered in a completely different way.

So, when Peter requested, "Keep going!" when you stopped to shake out your fingers, you visibly jumped.

"Oh my gosh, Peter, you scared me," you said, breathing slowly and heavily to calm your frantic heart rate.

"I'm sorry," he apologized quickly. "I thought you knew that I was coming."

"I did, I just totally forgot, otherwise I would have been working on the bio homework," you explained.

"I'm kinda glad you forgot, then. I don't think I've ever heard you play before," he commented.

"There's a reason for that," you muttered to yourself.

"Aw, come on, (Y/N), that's the best I've ever heard a violin sound. Why are you self-conscious about it?" he asked.

"I-I don't really know," you stuttered. "I can't even play for my family, you know? I just play better alone. It helps me think."

His eyes brightened. "So you're like Sherlock?"

Heat rose to your cheeks. "Uh-huh," you responded.

"It fits you," he remarked. "Sherlock. Huh. Anyway, let's get started on this bio homework due fourth hour."

"Sounds like a plan," you nodded. You unzipped your backpack and pulled your biology binder out. You opened it and flipped through the tabs until you found the homework page. "I have the first five problems done. You?"

"I haven't even started," he confessed.

"Well, the first five are multiple choice, so those are pretty easy," you noted. "I just didn't want to do the next five short response."

"Me, neither," he said. "But two heads are better than one, so let's start with those."

"Are you sure? I have no problem with doing the multiple choice with you."

Peter laughed. "It's no good to procrastinate. We have to do them either way."

"Fine," you accepted. "Question 6: list the steps of DNA replication."

The two of you worked at least three times as fast as you would have alone. It almost seemed like Peter was rushing to get things done as fast as he could. You didn't understand why; there was still half an hour left until third hour when you finished helping him with the multiple choice.

"Would you mind playing something for me?" he requested once you were done. Now it made sense. He wanted to hear you play again, and he wanted to hear you for as much time as he could.

"I--uh, sure, I guess?" you reluctantly agreed. You looked through your music folder and grabbed your book of movie soundtrack themes. You opened it to a random page and asked, "do you care if I play this one?" without looking at what it was.

He giggled at your apparent choice in song, and you whipped your head to read the title. It was "Across the Stars," the love theme from the Star Wars prequels. You inwardly groaned. What this how you were going to die? Of total embarrassment?

"Yeah, that one's perfect," he said.

"Why?" you questioned. Yep, death by embarrassment it was.

"What do you mean 'why?'"

"Nothing, nothing at all," you lied.

"No, (Y/N), come on. Why did you ask why?"

"I told you it's nothing! I mean, it's a love thing, and we're just friends--"

"We can be more than that if you want to be," he suggested quickly, while he had his chance.

You blinked, taking in what he had just said. "Sorry, what? Back up," you said.

"I thought you knew," he said, tilting his head just a little.

"I know what, now?"

"I've had this stupid huge crush on you since you moved here," he told you. "You really didn't notice?"

"I guess I was more focused on my stupid huge crush on you," you admitted, looking at the floor.

"That makes sense. I mean, I didn't notice that, either," he said. "So, uh, how about that love theme, Sherlock?"


	38. Logic (Vision x Reader)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> I feel like Vision is a pretty cool cat

"I really wish that Tony would stop treating me like a slave," you grumped to the only person around here that would listen to you anymore. "Like, I get it, I'm younger than everyone else, but Peter is too."

"Why don't you just confront him about it?" Vision suggested plainly. "I don't think that he is bullheaded enough not to listen to reason."

"I feel like he thinks that he's beyond logic, sometimes, though. Like he's above basic laws of humanity just because he's Iron Man," you said.

"Tony is a difficult man to get along with, but I believe that he has good underlying intentions."

"Yeah, yeah, and that's why I do the dishes and clean up after everyone whenever I'm here," you complained, putting another plate in the bottom rack. "Meanwhile, everyone else is off playing Ultimate Frisbee in the gym." You turned to look at your friend, who was helping you by sweeping the kitchen. "You know, you're the first person that's helped me in the three months that I've been here."

"I'm always happy to help, (Y/N)."

"Thanks, Vis." You put the last handful of silverware in, then shut off the water. "So, I know that Parker's been here at least a year longer than I have. Did Tony do this to his little Spider Baby, too, or am I just special? 'Cause if he did this to Peter, then I'd better start recruiting for someone to take my place," you joked, unwrapping the dishwasher soap and putting it in the little compartment.

"I don't recall Peter being forced to do household chores. But I do know that Tony thinks it's funny to push you around," Vision supplied. "He thinks that you'll do anything in order to gain his approval."

"I don't care about him, though. I know that Nat likes me, and I think that Rhodey can tolerate me," you began to list. "Uh, who else is there?" You closed the dishwasher and started it. "Everyone else is kinda in hiding or in prison, aren't they?"

"I like you very much. You always have something intelligent to say," he complimented you. He dumped out the dustpan, then put the broom in the closet and took a seat at the table.

You grabbed a deck of cards and sat down across from him. "That's nice of you to say. I mean, Peter's the real genius around here, but it's nice to hear that I sound intelligent," you said, shuffling the cards. "What do you want to play?"

"I don't have a preference," the red man shrugged. "But, again, I strongly suggest that you stand up for yourself and confront Tony about how you feel."

You shuffled the cards with a vengeance. "Do you really think that he would listen to a sixteen-year-old?"

"If you frame your argument well enough, then yes." You set the cards on the table, and he cut the deck. The material that he was made of didn't allow him to shuffle cards, but he enjoyed playing as much as the next person.

"I really hope you're right, because the next time I see him, I think I'll try to say something," you stated.

Vision smiled at you. "That's good to hear," he said. He dealt five cards into two separate piles, then put two cards face-up between them. "Is Speed all right with you?"

"Yeah, that sounds pretty good," you agreed. You watched as he dealt the rest of the cards into two stacks, then he let you choose which one you wanted. You selected the one on your left, then picked five cards off of the top. "Three, two," you counted down, "one!"

A frenzy of slapping down cards and replenishing your hands followed, until you were both at a standstill. You counted down again and flipped over one of the cards that he had dealt out first. The frenzy began again, and Vision was the first to have fully depleted his stack of cards.

You slammed down your two remaining cards into the table in your defeat. "Dang it, Vis, you always win at Speed," you groaned.

"The student surpasses the master?" he responded with a shrug.

You laughed. "More like the student prodigy surpasses the mediocre master," you corrected.

The elevator doors opened, and Tony walked in, eyes glued to a tablet. He looked up, spotting you and Vision cleaning up the cards and preparing another round. "Hey, Vis!" he called. "We were wondering where you were. Why are you up here with the flaming catapult?"

"S/he was in need of assistance, and then s/he suggested that we play a card game. It's nice to have some peace and quiet on occasion, you know," Vision replied stiffly.

"Sure, whatever. What if, instead of pitying the Witch-Burner, you came down and played with us?" Tony suggested, completely ignoring you. You hated his "clever" little nicknames that he had for you. They always seemed derogatory to the fact that after you had been transformed by the terrigen-infused fish oil capsules, you were able to launch fireballs with your hands.

Your hands began to grow hot, and you stood up quickly. "Listen here, Tin Can, you invited me to help you rebuild the Avengers for a reason, and I'm pretty sure that it wasn't for me to do the dishes on Saturday nights," you seethed.

"You're right," Tony said. You exchanged a confused glance with Vision. "But listen, Human Torch--"

"That's not my name."

"--you forgot to wipe down the table."

You looked at the table and realized that you hadn't done that yet. "Right, sorry," you apologized meekly, walking over to the sink to wet the washcloth down with warm water.

"(Y/N)! No! You have to stand firm!" Vision encouraged you.

"Vis, please, the adults are talking," Tony chided.

"There aren't any adults in this room!" you shouted. Vision and Tony looked at you, disbelieving their ears. "Not with you, in here, anyway," you said, looking directly into Tony's eyes.

He didn't take any offense. Instead, he smiled, like this was exactly what he wanted. He began to clap as if this was what he'd been waiting for for a long time. "Looks like you finally grew a backbone, kid," he congratulated you.

"What are you talking about?" you queried.

"When we sent out a call for an Inhuman to join the Avengers, your application stuck out to us," Tony began to explain. "You were barely sixteen, but you were ready to dedicate your life to a basically hopeless cause. Your powers were pretty cool, too, but we weren't looking for anything impressive there. We didn't care about an academic record, no, we were looking for how you presented yourself. One thing was made very clear: your opinion of yourself was trash."

"Hey!"

"It's true! Vis, you remember. You were the one that picked him/her."

"I realized that you needed confidence, and I thought that just being accepted would give you what you needed, but it was Tony that decided to take it a step further," the artificial man said.

You set down the washcloth and sat down in your seat again. Tony took the seat next to you.

"I thought that the only way that you were going to build that confidence was to build it for yourself," he said.

"So you decided to shove me around until I broke?" you asked skeptically.

"Exactly," Tony nodded. "Turns out that you just needed a little push forward from a friend, and then you were good." He stood up again. "Come on down to the gym. We've been waiting to play Ultimate Frisbee with you, Fuego."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Last round of the contest, which I won because no one else entered. People are scared of writing for Vision I guess


	39. I'm Still Here (Matt Murdock x Reader)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The song is I'm Still Here by John Rzeznik from Treasure Planet

_I am a question to the world_  
_Not an answer to be heard_  
_Or a moment that's held in your arms_  
_And what do you think you'd ever say_  
_I won't listen anyway_  
_You don't know me_  
_And I'll never be what you want me to be_

You and Karen walked up to the door of Matt's apartment. Neither the two of you or Foggy had heard from him since the trial, and you were worried. When you had first met him at law school, it wasn't like him to leave everyone so in the dark about his whereabouts. Lately, though, he had become so secretive with some pretty crappy explanations for a lawyer. You were determined to find out what he was hiding, no matter his protests.

Karen knocked on his door and gave you a giddy smile. You had noticed her developing relationship with Matt and the positive effect that it had had on both of them. You were happy for them, but not as happy as you felt like you should be. The idea of Karen and Foggy was one that you could get behind more than Karen and Matt for some reason that you couldn't figure out. No, that was a lie. You knew exactly why.

An unfamiliar man opened the door. He was blind, but not the way that Matt was. Matt's eyes still carried their alluring hazel color, while this guy's eyes were the more common, yet unsettling bluish gray that blind people had.

"You two ladies lookin' for something?" he asked, his voice gruff. You wondered how he knew that there were two of you, and how he knew that you were ladies, at that.

"Yeah, we just stopped by to check on Matt," Karen spoke up, undeterred by the man and his inexplicable knowledge. "Is he here?"

"Sure is," he confirmed. "Come on in."

Karen was the first to enter, but she froze as the old man opened your friend's bedroom door, only to see Matt leaning over a woman in his bed, a woman that you recognized, but Karen wouldn't, a woman that you had hoped never to see again, a woman that had hurt Matt so badly.

Elektra.

"Matt?" Karen uttered, unsure if she was able to trust her own eyes.

"Karen?" Matt asked, unsure if he was able to trust his own ears. "What--what are you doing here?" He was very aware that what he was doing looked bad, and he was trying to grasp a way to explain it, but was coming up short.

"Nothing," she replied bitterly, choking up. "I'll see you at the office." She stormed out, not waiting to hear excuses.

"Karen, wait!" Matt called after her, but the door slammed shut.

"Way to go, Superstar," you congratulated him sarcastically.

_And what do you think you'd understand_  
_I'm a boy no, I'm a man_  
_You can't take me and throw me away_  
_And how can you learn what's never shown_  
_Yeah you stand here on your own_  
_They don't know me_  
_Cause I'm not here_

"What are you doing here, (Y/N)?" Matt asked.

"We were worried about you, so we came to check on you," you shrugged. "Guess you have your own little posse of vigilantes to look out for each other."

"It's not what it looks like, I promise. You don't understand--"

"I don't understand what, Matt?" you snapped. "I don't understand that you've been blowing off the real world because you've been trying to save it? I don't understand that burning desire that you have to make a positive mark on the world? Tell me, Matt, tell me what I don't understand."

"You pretend to understand, but you don't. You act like I'm some teenager going through a phase. This isn't a phase, (Y/N), this is who I am," he claimed.

"Are you trying to make yourself sound like a teenager going through a phase? That's all I'm hearing right now," you shot back.

"I like this girl," the old man commented.

"Quiet, you," you commanded. "You can have your turn when I'm done chewing this loser out."

Matt could feel the force of your glare, even though he couldn't see it. You were scary when you were angry, and if this wasn't angry, he wouldn't want to be there when you were.

You marched up to him, suddenly becoming very quiet. That's what scared him the most.

_And I want a moment to be real_  
_Wanna touch things I don't feel_  
_Wanna hold on and feel I belong_  
_And how can the world want me to change_  
_They're the ones that stay the same_  
_They don't know me_  
_Cause I'm not here_

"You're not stupid, Matt," you said simply. "I'm not stupid. Foggy's not stupid. Karen's not stupid. I don't know why you're expecting us to be."

"I'm not--"

"Don't lie. Let's just be real for a moment. Which do you care about more: Daredevil or Matt Murdock?"

"(Y/N), that's not fair. They're both me, and if you can't accept that, then you need to leave," he stated.

"Oh, and you're being fair to your friends? Your friends in your real life that care about you?" You took a breath, then continued, "Matt, one day, you won't come back from your night-job, and you know who will be left to grieve for you if you keep shoving people away?"

"You," he answered.

"What?" His answer completely threw you off of your groove. Your mojo was completely destroyed because of one word. You wouldn't be able to keep on berating him now. The moment had passed.

"I know you too well, (Y/N). No matter what I try to do to get you unassociated with me, you'll always be there, in the shadows. You'll never be able to leave someone that you love behind."

"Who ever said that I loved you?" you inquired bitterly.

"Your heart rate," the old man shrugged.

"I told you to be quiet!" It was back. Yep, you were back onto your path of angry lecturing.

"I only have one question for you," Matt began. "How long?"

_And you see the things they never see_  
_All you wanted I could be_  
_Now you know me and I'm not afraid_  
_And I wanna tell you who I am_  
_Can you help me be a man_  
_They can't break me_  
_As long as I know who I am_

__

"Since law school," you admitted begrudgingly. "Before you met Elektra and she tore you apart. It's been a long time, Matt. I was always there for you. I never left you. The only person closer to you than I was was Foggy, and you know how he feels about you now." It felt good to get that off of your chest. You were still burning inside, but there was a small amount of relief. "How long did you know?" you asked a little sheepishly.

Matt chuckled. "I honestly just put the pieces together now," he answered.

"You're an actual idiot, Matt," you sighed.

"You're not wrong," the old man commented.

"Shut up and give us a moment, Stick," Matt demanded. "Sit in there with Elektra or something."

"Well, since you asked so nicely," the man that must have been Stick obliged. He got up and moved into the other room, closing the door behind him. "I'll still be able to hear you."

"No one cares, dude," you muttered.

"Heard that," he shouted.

You rolled your eyes. "Speaking of Elektra, why are you making that mistake again? I thought that you had learned from that experience," you chided. The air of anger and tension had been broken up for the most part, and you knew that it would work out well for your side of it came back again, but you didn't know if you wanted it to.

_And I want a moment to be real_  
_Wanna touch things I don't fee_ l  
_Wanna hold on and feel I belong_  
_And how can the world want me to change_  
_They're the ones that stay the same_  
_They can't see me_  
_But I'm still here_

"It's not like that anymore."

"Why is she in your bed, then? When I walked in, the two of you looked like it was still like that. I know that you're an idiot, but you can't possibly be that stupid," you said, both hope and condescension mixing in the tone of your voice.

"She was dying, okay? She's just regaining her strength and then she's gone," he explained with finality.

"Is she really? Has she been told this, as well, or does she think that she can twist this into some permanent situation?"

"Believe it or not, I've made it quite clear to her that once we finish, she's never coming back to New York."

"Finish? Finish what? Reconciling?" you scoffed.

"(Y/N), no. We've been done since she walked out on me over a decade ago."

"But are you, really? I know that's what you think, Matt, but you have to make sure that's what she thinks, too. She's lied to you and hurt you before, and who's to say that she won't do it again?" you argued desperately. "You think you're invincible, but your emotions are just as exposed as anyone else's. You're an open book, and not only can people read you, but they can edit as they please."

"Are you asking me to close myself off? I've been trying to do that, and you complain about it. When I open up, you complain. Is there no winning with you?" he fumed. "I'm just trying to do what I think is right. What I think is right isn't the same as what you think is right."

_They can't tell me who to be_  
_Cause I'm not what they see_  
_Yeah, the world is still sleeping_  
_While I keep on dreaming for me_  
_And their words are just whispers and lies_  
_That I'll never believe_

"Why do you want me to change?" he huffed. "If you love me so much, then why are you putting up this illusion that I'm someone I'm not anymore?"

"You're still that person, Matt. You just need some help. I think that you can balance both parts of your life. You don't have to push people away because the people that matter will support you at the end of the day," you ranted. "Don't push me away, Matt."

"It's for your own--"

"Please."

He sighed, running a hand through his already messy hair. "I don't know what I would do if you got hurt because of me, (Y/N). I'm pushing you away so that you can stay safe," he warned.

"I can take care of myself. I've been taking self-defense classes since I could walk," you stated, crossing your arms over your chest. "My dad had all of his girls take them."

"He's a smart man," Matt acknowledged, "but this is too dangerous for you. I don't want you getting involved."

"That's bull, Matt! Would you just have confidence in me for one minute? It's like you think that everyone is made out of eggshells except for you. Do you remember the time that some drunk at Josie's tried to force me to go to bed with him?" you threw the question.

"When was that?" he asked, nervously fiddling with the collar of his shirt.

"Yeah, that's what I thought," you scoffed. "It's been three times, and you haven't noticed once. I took care of it myself because I can look out for myself. Looks like I might as well get used to that."

_And I want a moment to be real_  
_Wanna touch things I don't feel_  
_Wanna hold on and feel I belong_  
_And how can they say I'll never change_  
_They're the ones that stay the same_  
_I'm the one now_  
_Cause I'm still here_

Matt couldn't think of anything to say. Anything that he could say would just make everything worse, one way or another. "I'm sorry," he finally apologized.

You laughed. "I'm sure you are." You turned toward the door. "I guess I'll see you whenever you decide to pop in at your own law firm. I'm still here for you, Matt, as soon as you're ready to realize it." You walked out the door, your heels clicking on the floor loudly. "Don't waste your chance."

_I'm the one  
Cause I'm still here_

Matt stood in the living room, shocked by your words. Foggy had told him the same things, but the words coming from you had so much more impact on him for some reason.

"Way to go, Superstar," Stick congratulated Matt sarcastically, quoting you.

_I'm still here_

You stomped down the street on the way to the law firm, head towards the sidewalk. Suddenly, you were pushed into an alleyway and surrounded by people dressed like ninjas I sheathing their swords.

"Just when I thought my day couldn't get any worse," you groaned.

_I'm still here_

"Don't let that girl go," Stick encouraged Matt.

"She is truly a gem, and it would be a shame to neglect such an opportunity," Elektra agreed weakly.

Matt and Stick picked up your angry screams from a couple of blocks away, and Matt noticeably stiffened.

"Go get her, boy," Stick prodded. "You can't let her down, not now."

_I'm still here_


	40. Reversal of Roles: Tony Stark x Reader

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> You are Tony Stark, and Tony Stark is Tony Stark if he weren't Tony Stark, you know?

"Iron _Man_ ," you fumed. "Just because the suit doesn't have curves doesn't mean that the person inside it is a guy."

"(Y/N), you're overthinking this. Does it matter that they think you're a guy?" Pepper, your PA, reasoned, taking the remote from your hands and turning off the television. "It just means that they won't think it's you."

You snorted. "They'll be so busy looking for a guy smart enough to make the suit that they won't realize that local genius (Y/N) (L/N) is behind the whole thing. Serves the sexist jerks right."

"(Y/N), really?"

"Pepper, really?" you copied. "Besides, Iron Woman sounds terrible. And it's not even iron! It's a gold-titanium alloy."

"And they're supposed to know that...how?" she questioned, raising an eyebrow.

"Gold-Titanium Alloy Woman sounds stupid, too," you complained.

"What a conundrum you are stuck in," she mocked you.

"Hey! I got it! They can call me Female!" you grinned.

"How did you jump to that?"

"Fe is the notation for iron on the periodic table, and male means man. They're still technically calling me Iron Man, but they're acknowledging the fact that I'm a girl, too."

Pepper put her face in her hands. "Sometimes I wonder if all of that genius was wasted on you, (Y/N)."  
\--  
"You want it? Fine! The truth is--" you took a breath, tearing your note cards in half twice and tossing them in the air like confetti-- "I am Iron Man, but you should probably start thinking of a new name," you announced at the press conference. You had accidentally revealed yourself and were done with trying to cover. "I will not be taking any questions until approximately 'in your dreams.' Thank you, and leave me alone." You stormed away from the conference barefoot, not-so-accidentally leaving your pumps behind.

Thankfully, most of the reporters were too shocked to shout at you, but there were a few annoyingly persistent buggers that began yelling at the top of their lungs to be heard and answered. You sighed. "Some people just can't take a hint."

Pepper met you at the doors and helped to ward the demons away from you. "Hey, you'd better be taking questions from me," she said, then told a few more reporters to go away. The two of you began to walk back to your car.

"Depends on the question," you replied.

"How about 'why would you just reveal yourself like that?' Or 'do you realize how stupid that was?'" she offered.

"I did it because I had already dug myself into a hole, and there was no getting out of it. About the second one, you always do say that all this genius was wasted on me."

"(Y/N), I was never serious about that! Now, I kind of am, but I never expected you to do that. Your thing is talking your way out of impossible situations. Why wouldn't you do that now?" she pressed.

"They were going to find out sooner or later," you said. "It might as well have been from me that they heard it." The overwhelming buzz of the crowd of reporters was really getting on your nerves now, and you make another spur-of-the-moment decision that you were probably going to regret later. "Hey, would you all _shut up_?!" you projected your voice over the crowd.

A few of them did as you asked, while others were under the impression that 'you all' didn't apply to them, and kept shouting. After the obedient reporters realized that you weren't doing anything, they picked right back up with the shouting.

"Pepper, please stop me before I do something stupid," you pleaded. You began to make your way back through the reporters, back into the building, and back up to the pulpit.

"(Y/N), what are you doing? If you open up questions, we could be here for hours, and you don't have time for that. You have a meeting at two with the board of the company," Pepper reminded you nervously.

"There's no way in heck that I'm opening up questions, and I didn't forget about the meeting this time," you reassured her.

"Yeah, this time," she said, rolling her eyes.

"Hey, it was only three times," you defended yourself.

"In a row."

"Okay, okay. Now, pull me out if I look like I'm going to answer one question. I just have to announce something, and then we're out of here," you promised. You turned to face the crowd of reporters, and miraculously, they shut up. "I guess the respect that a reporter has for a human being relies entirely on whether or not they have a microphone in front of them," you started.

The crowd laughed but thankfully didn't explode with questions.

"You're probably wondering why I'm up here again when I clearly said that I wasn't taking any questions. No, I haven't changed my mind," you clarified. "I will allow one person to have a personal Q&A session with me. The raffle will be open to literally anyone who wants to enter. You can enter by sending one email to an address that I'll provide on my Facebook page. Wait, Pepper, I have one of those, right?"

"Yes," she answered, giving a stiff, confused nod.

"Don't use multiple email addresses for one person or news corporation," you cautioned. "I will find out. Everyone gets an equal chance."

"Can a news corporation have cameras present at the interview, regardless of who wins the opportunity to speak with you?" a particularly daring reporter shouted.

You found the young man in the crowd and gave him the death glare of a lifetime. "Please refer to the FAQ for any questions. It'll probably be posted with the email address," you seethed. "Any additional questions will be answered as 'no.'"

The audience exploded with protests, but you stepped down from the podium, effectively ignoring them. Avoiding eye contact with anyone besides Pepper, you slipped your arm under your assistant's arm like she was escorting you, and you quickly exited the building.

"Was that whole contest thing an on-the-spot thing?" the redhead asked once you were both safely in the solitude of your car.

"Kinda," you admitted. "I've been debating it for a while, actually. I want to talk to regular people without being bombarded by other people and the media. I thought that this sort of thing might be fun."

"It's unique, to say the least," Pepper shrugged. "How are you going to know if news corporations are entering multiple addresses?"

"I actually designed the program a while ago to search the background of the people sending me emails. I may or may not have set it up to rule out names and addresses tied to the media," you admitted, biting your lip. "They don't need to know that, though."

Pepper smiled, and you could tell that she wholeheartedly agreed with that aspect of this situation. "They do not."

The quiet volume of your Bach CD filled the silencer which was much appreciated. Despite your outward appearance of being an extrovert, being quiet and enjoying the company of your best friend was really nice. Your days since your escape had been stressful, even disregarding your decision to cut (L/N) Industries from the weapons business.

"Are you going to write the FAQ, or is that up to me?" Pepper broke the verbal silence.

"I'll write it during that meeting at 2," you shrugged. "I got nothing better to do."  
\--  
You already knew that you were going to like the winner of the contest based on his email address. His name was Tony Stark, and his address was "youknowwhoiam@gmail.com."

You were showing up at the guy's house in five minutes, and you had never been this excited to meet someone in your life. Pepper was excited just because you were excited, and maybe she was like that just because no media was involved.

"You look like a five-year-old on Christmas," she commented.

"Am I not a five-year-old?" you giggled. "It's not Christmas, but I think that I definitely for the other half of the description."

"Just act like a mature adult today, and we can talk about that later."

"Being a mature adult is overrated," you scoffed.

"I now understand your philosophy on life," she groaned.

"Oh, come on, Pep, you have to get tired of being an adult sometimes."

She raised her eyebrows, her mouth a thin line. "Of course I do, but I never get a break because I'm working with you."

"Yeah, that's hard to argue," you admitted.

You pulled up next to the house that matched the address that you had. This was a pretty upscale neighborhood, and Tony Stark's house was the most upscale of them all. You wondered what this guy did for a living.

Pepper knocked on the door, and you waited for a response. After maybe thirty seconds of nothing, she tried again. Still nothing.

"Ah, screw it," you said, and pushed the doorbell three times in rapid succession.

A startled cry came from inside, followed by a thud.

"(Y/N)!" Pepper scolded you. You shrugged and smiled in response.

A man with dark hair and dark eyes opened the door, wearing a white t-shirt and plaid pajama pants. He took in you and Pepper standing on his doorstep, you dressed much more casually than your counterpart, and rubbed his eyes sleepily. "Oh, was that today?" he yawned.

Pepper rolled her eyes, but you grinned broadly. "I relate to that more than you can imagine," you said.

"You must be Mr. Stark, then?" Pepper asked, holding out her hand stiffly.

"Please, call me Tony," he answered, taking her hand and shaking it more firmly than she thought that he would. "Mr. Stark was my father."

You snorted, and Pepper shot you a glare. "What? You don't recognize SpongeBob when you hear it?"

"Finally, someone gets the reference," Tony said, throwing up his hands.

"See, Pep, normal people do watch SpongeBob," you huffed.

"Anyway, how about you guys come in?" Tony suggested, moving out of the doorway. He looked in and realized that a blanket still covered his couch, and this throw pillows rested on the floor. "Just let me take care of that," he mumbled, rushing in and putting everything back in its place.

"Why were you sleeping on the couch?" you asked bluntly. "Mrs. kick you out of bed?"

He laughed at that. "Nope. No, it's just me. But if you must know," he began, taking a seat on his one-and-a-half person chair, "I couldn't sleep, then watched the 60's Batman TV show until I did."

"Are you sure that this guy isn't the male embodiment of you, (Y/N)?" Pepper said.

"Well, we have yet to find out," you replied, sitting down on the soft black couch. "What do you do for a living, Tony?"

"I'm an engineer, for the most part, but when the need arises, I make a good blue-hat."

"Didja hack your way here, then?" you joked. He was silent for a few seconds, and the expression on his face told you that he was debating whether or not to tell the truth. "No way. You hacked my program?"

"It was hard, it that's any consolation," he shrugged.

Despite Pepper's obvious disapproval, your face split into a grin. "Dude, that's really impressive!" you gushed. "And you said you're an engineer? What do you do there?"

"Ever since I heard about the contest and hacked my way into winning, I've been working on designs to improve upon what you've already built, specifically, the arc reactor, your suit..."

"Do you have your designs on you?" you asked, intrigued.

"Oh, yeah, they're up in my lab," he said, jumping up from his seat. "It's up this way." He walked toward the staircase, expecting you and Pepper to follow.

"(Y/N), I don't know if this is a good idea," Pepper expressed her worries. "We don't know this guy's intentions."

"Ah, come on, Pepper, lighten up a bit. Who knows, he could really help us. Maybe his is the kind of attitude we need at (L/N), instead of the anxious, stressed mood we've had going on since I pulled us out of weapons."

"I think we'll be fine with or without this guy. I think that we should leave."

"You just think that he's annoying," you claimed, cracking a smile. "Just think about what you said before about him being the male embodiment of me, and then I think you'll be a little more optimistic."

Tony backtracked a couple of steps down the stairs and asked the two of you, "Are you coming, or should I send you the schematics?"

"We're coming," you smiled at the same time as Pepper deadpanned, "Send the schematics." You both rolled your eyes at each other and followed Tony up the stairs.

To say that Tony's designs were impressive was an understatement. He had gotten such good ideas of what he was working with by just looking at pictures and video footages that there were very few things that you would have had to correct him on. The two of you talked for a couple of hours while Pepper listened from an office chair.

"Have you ever considered working at (L/N)?" you inquired. Pepper put her face in her hand, but you ignored that.

"I have," he nodded, "but I didn't want to start with the entrance-level stuff."

"Understandable. But, hey, I can take care of that. Welcome to (L/N) Industries, if you want," you said, -offering him your hand.

"(Y/N), why?" Pepper groaned.

"He'll grow on you, Pep, I promise!" you exclaimed. "What do you say, Tony?"

Tony shook your hand excitedly. "Let's take over the world," he said.

You smirked devilishly. "I like the way you think."


	41. Reversal of Roles: Bucky Barnes x Reader

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> You're Bucky Barnes if Bucky Barnes were a girl.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I wrote this when I hadn't noticed the part in The Winter Soldier when Steve found out that Bucky killed Tony's parents so I was pretty sure he lied when he said yes

"I didn't know it was her."

"Don't lie to me, Rogers. Did you know?"

Steve took a breath and lied through his teeth to give Tony the only answer that he would believe. "Yes."

Tony stepped back in horror. He took a second to look like he was calm, but you could see otherwise. You ran to block the hit before it came, but the grieving man was too fast.

All Hades broke loose.

You retaliated quickly, but Tony grabbed hold of you and tossed you around like a rag doll. Steve tried to come to your rescue, but he was taken down and his feet were bound in a matter of seconds. The man in the metal suit picked you up again and slammed you against one of the cryo chambers. He tried to charge up a repulsor blast, but you broke his gauntlet before he could. You redirected his arm when he resorted to his missiles, and it blew into another chamber. The domino effect took care of the rest of them, and as the last chamber fell onto yours, you were thrown free while Tony was trapped under debris.

"Get out of here!" Steve shouted at you. You took heed immediately, finding a shaft and opening the roof.

Tony tried to fire his working repulsor at you, but he missed, and Steve jumped in between the hallway to the shaft and Tony. He tried to fly, but with his suit so damaged, the best he could really do was float.

"It wasn't her, Tony!" Steve attempted to defend you. "Hydra had control of her mind."

"Move," Tony commanded nonchalantly.

"It wasn't her!"

You jumped your way up the shaft, landing on grate-like ledges. Tony managed to get rid of Steve for the time being, and tried to fly up to meet you, but he could only hop up a few ledges at a time. He got up to where he could charge a repulsor, and as it fired, Steve jumped in front of you to deflect it with his shield. It rebounded to hit Tony.

"He's not gonna stop," Steve told you. "Go."

Tony got back up, and as he flew slowly upwards, Steve wrapped a cord around the neck of the suit, bringing them both down. They both fell onto bottom ledges.

You were almost home free when a missile hit the hinges of the lid on the roof. You jumped back down to the last ledge, not landing so neatly. Tony had caught up to you at last, and there was no running anymore. You picked up a metal pole and batted him away, but it didn't hold for long.

He wrapped you in a chokehold, and asked, "Do you even remember them?"

"I remember all of them," you answered honestly.

Tony let the both of you fall down the shaft, and Steve jumped onto the already stressful ride downward. He let go of you, and the two men fell to the ground. You landed on a ledge that forced the air from your lungs.

"This isn't going to change what happened," Steve pleaded.

"I don't care," Tony answered. "She killed my mom."

As they fought, you saw the shield laying on your ledge. You picked it up and, shouting a sort of battle cry, you slammed it down onto Tony's back. He fired a blast at you, and you used the shield to defend yourself. You tossed it to Steve and attacked Iron Man with your bare and metal fists.

Tony was forced to go back and forth between the two of you as you and Steve traded off the shield. A blast from a repulsor shot Steve into the wall, and it was left to you to defend your friend. You kept Tony's arm at bay as he shot a long, continuous blast. You used your metal hand to push Tony into a wall and claw at the arc reactor in his chest.

You forgot that the arc reactor had a repulsor blast of its own. It fired straight through your arm and into your chest.

You fell to the ground in agony. Steve rose and fought back with his shield. The last thing you could see before the darkness overcame you was the golden light of the repulsors reflecting off of the shield.

When you next opened your eyes, you weren't inhabiting your body anymore. You could see yourself lying on the ground, your long hair coming out of its braid to frame your face. You would have looked better if your face weren't covered in blood and your chest still smoking from the repulsor blast. You could see that you weren't moving anymore. You were gone.

Watching Steve and Tony fighting was awful. They were relentless in displaying their emotions so violently. You wondered if Steve even knew that you were dead yet.

Tony almost tripped over your body, and Steve used his unbalance to throw him on the ground and pound the shield into his mask again and again until it flew off. You couldn't bear to watch what you were certain was about to happen, but instead of a horrible crunch, you heard one last clang.

The shield was lodged into the arc reactor. Steve fell back, shaking from all of the adrenaline. While Tony lay still in shock, Steve twisted the shield out, leaving the reactor to flicker in and out of life.

Steve grew still once he took a knee next to your body. He realized why you hadn't been able to get up. He gingerly lifted your head and brushed your hair over your shoulder.

"You...you _killed_ her," he whispered. "She's dead; you killed her!" he said, his voice escalating in volume and pitch. "She was my _friend_!"

Tony resisted the urge to fire a remark back, but everything came into perspective when he saw his friend hunched and shaking over the body of the Winter Soldier. He understood that they were both grieving.

"I'm so sorry," he apologized quietly. "I am so, so sorry." He walked over to Steve and knelt next to him, fully prepared to take any blows that the man had left for him.

He wasn't prepared for the hug that the supersoldier pulled him into. He wasn't prepared for the tears that were streaming down his face. He wasn't prepared for his own tears.

They came to an understanding that this conflict had to end now. It wasn't worth fighting when everything was said and done.  
\--  
"Captain Steve Rogers and Bucky Barnes, the Winter Soldier, fled from the scene. Tony Stark is back at the compound, helping his friend, former US Marine James Rhodes, to recuperate," the news anchor announced.

The words that conflicted with your knowledge and memories stirred you from your rest. "Bucky Barnes?" you wondered aloud. "But he's not the Winter Soldier; I am," you corrected sleepily.

You opened your eyes and found yourself on a white couch, wearing a white tank top and black yoga pants, your long, dark hair braided neatly. You went to push yourself up, but your left arm wasn't responding. You groaned loudly; you had thought that the bugs had been worked out for a couple of decades. You tried to grab the metal appendage so that you could sling it across your body, as you remembered the basics on how to fix it, but it wasn't there.

Using your flesh arm, you pushed yourself into a sitting position and took in your metal arm, or more, what was left of it.

It was barely a stub, covered by black fabric cap. You had managed to lose your left arm again.

Of course, you remembered how you had gotten it blown off, and how you died. But if you had died, how were you here?

You turned your eyes to the screen, which had been suddenly paused on a picture of the only person that could be Bucky Barnes, the supposed Winter Soldier. You froze once again in shock. He looked like you would imagine a male version of you would look.

"How can there be two Winter Soldiers, then?" a lightly accented voice asked skeptically from behind you. The speaker was a dark man that, although dressed casually, carried a regal air about him. He stared down at you, hiding his confusion well, but you could pick up small give-away.

"You'll have to tell me, I'm afraid," you answered. "Last I checked, there was only one of me, and I've always been a woman."

"The Winter Soldier has always been a man--in this universe," the man responded, a glint behind his eyes. "However, I have always supported the multiverse theory. Perhaps you are evidence of two realms meeting."

"I'm not familiar with the 'multiverse theory.' You'll have to explain it to me."

"Ah, I will have to explain it another time. Now, you are needed elsewhere, before your male counterpart makes a decision that I do not feel is best for him," he said.

"Alright," you consented uneasily. "How am I supposed to stop him?" You tried to get up but found it extremely difficult to balance. Now that a huge weight had disappeared from your left side, your learned compensation was useless. Before you fell over, the man rushed to your aid.

"Barnes has the same difficulty," he commented.

"The same thing happened to him that happened to me, then," you guessed. "Except he didn't die."

The man shot you a face of alarm but didn't push you to explain what you meant by that. As he helped you to walk where he was leading you without falling down, you took the liberty to recount your tale, anyway. When you finished, the man nodded and said that that was more or less the tale he had heard, but Barnes hadn't been caught in the chest with the repulsor blast that had claimed your arms.

Just outside of a white door, the man stopped and looked at you, as if he were reading your soul. "It was a pleasure, Miss..." he paused, waiting for you to fill in your name.

"(L/N)," you supplied. "(Y/N) (L/N). However, the pleasure is all mine, Mister..." you paused similarly.

"T'Challa," he filled in. "I can assure you, Miss (L/N), the pleasure is indeed mine."

"Agree to disagree, then," you said, offering a small smile.

"Of course," he nodded, mirroring your expression. "Now, you should introduce yourself to Mr. Barnes and Captain Rogers."

You sighed. "It's going to be so weird, knowing him so well, while he has no idea who I am," you worried.

"I feel that you will be familiar enough to him," T'Challa comforted you. "If you are truly a woman that lived exactly the same life as his best friend, there should not be a big difference."

You thanked him for both his physical and moral support, then walked quietly into the room, struggling to keep your balance. As soon as you entered, Steve's eyes locked on you, and his brows furrowed in confusion. He quickly caught the attention of who could have only been Bucky Barnes.

The dark-haired man met your eyes, and you both audibly gasped. Even though you had known that he would look exactly like you, it was startling to see him in person. You couldn't imagine what it must have been like for him to see you when he didn't know that you existed.

"Who are you?" Steve snapped both of you out of your stupors. Those words hurt coming from him, especially in the way that he said them. He was your best friend, and, you had always hoped, maybe even a little more than that.

"I'm (Y/N) (L/N), the woman that he might have been," you shrugged, trying to gesture to Bucky with your left hand. You looked back at your shoulder and muttered, "Right. That's not there anymore. Basically the female version of him," you reiterated, using your right hand this time.

"Are you a clone?" Steve asked.

You gave up a small laugh, trying to walk closer to the two men without losing your balance. "No. I was born and raised the same as Bucky, lived the same life he did. There was no Bucky Barnes in my universe, just me. I'm here now, and I don't know why, exactly, but I'm going to make the best of it," you answered.

"So you're me, but not me," Bucky summed up.

You nodded. "That's right," you said.

Bucky let out a sound of interest, but Steve was still confused. "How can you be him, but not him? What do you mean by 'your universe?' That doesn't make any sense," he stated, folding his arms over his chest.

"And you think that this makes sense to me?" you fired back. "One second, I'm dead and watching you and Tony tear each other apart, the next, I'm alive and well in a universe that I'm not supposed to exist in. Yeah, and you said that I was taking all the stupid with me."

"Wait, you died?" Bucky interjected. "How...how did you manage that?"

"Same way that we lost that arm, except the blast hit me right here, too," you said, touching your chest lightly with your fingers.

Bucky swallowed nervously. "Guess I got lucky," he remarked.

"No kidding," you said, taking a seat next to him on the bench.

Now that you and Bucky were sitting side by side, Steve could see every similarity between the two of you, from your coloring to your posture. He didn't find the idea of you being a female Bucky coming from a different universe so far-fetched.

"Say that you are who you say you are," he said. "What are you trying to accomplish right here, right now?"

"Mr. T'Challa or whatever told me to stop Bucky from doing something that he said he probably shouldn't," you relayed. "So, Buck, tell me, what are you going to do?"

"Well, first of all, it's just T'Challa. He's the king of Wakanda, where we are," Bucky told you.

Your eyes widened. "Wait a second. King T'Challa, as in the guy in the black kitty suit?" Bucky nodded, trying not to laugh at how you described the Black Panther. "How did I not recognize him? I make it a point to recognize the faces of people that want to kill me. I'm slipping," you criticized yourself.

"I mean, you did die," Steve pointed out. "I don't exactly know the effects of death on the mind, but it can't be good."

"Yeah, but how could I have up and forgotten the second most recent person that tried to kill me?" you asked rhetorically. "Or is it third most recent. I don't know. Bucky, would you count Zemo?"

Bucky shook his head. "Nah. He wanted us dead, but he didn't directly try," he said.

"Fair enough," you nodded. "Your opinion, Steve?"

"Let's just not bring up the last week," he said. "I don't really want to think about it."

"The last week was a roller coaster, to say the least," you agreed. "Now, back to the present. What is it, exactly, that I'm supposed to stop you from doing?"

Bucky took a moment to think about it, but you knew that he knew what he wasn't supposed to do. He just didn't want to say it out loud. "I'm going back into cryo," he finally pushed out.

"Why?" you asked quietly.

"I can't trust my own mind. It's better...safer for everyone until they figure out how to get this stuff out of my head."

"But maybe it's not," you said. "I'm here, and I'm the same as you in almost every way."

"Then maybe we should both go under," Bucky said.

"No, you can't do that," Steve protested. "I just got you back; I'm not letting you go under without a fight. (Y/N) has a point. With her here, we might be able to figure this out faster."

"We don't know that for a fact, Steve," Bucky said. He was quiet, not becoming angry. He really just didn't want to hurt people. You really were just the same as him. "The only thing that I know right now is that the Soldier is still inside my head, and that makes me dangerous," he sighed. He placed his hand on top of yours, saying, "(Y/N), you can make your own decision, but I'm going back under."

You laced your fingers through his. "I get it," you said. "I totally get it. Just understand that I'm going to make sure that you're not under long enough for people to wonder where you went."

"Good luck with that," your counterpart chuckled. "Hey, Steve, at least you have (Y/N) to keep you company, right?"

"Not funny," Steve deadpanned while you smiled.

"It is kind of ironic, though. You have to admit that," you asserted, smirking.

"I don't have to admit anything," he said.

"Never exactly stopped you, though, now did it?" you joked.

"He's admitted plenty of things that he shouldn't have, as well as kept plenty of things to himself that he shouldn't have," Bucky agreed.

"Like his undying love for Agent Carter?" you snorted.

"Especially his undying love for Agent Carter," Bucky laughed.

Steve didn't say anything; he didn't even react to the teasing. Not even a hint of a blush.

"Steve? Are you okay?" you asked, trying to meet his eyes. He didn't respond for a moment, and you exchanged a worried glance with Bucky.

"Yeah, I'm fine," Steve finally replied. "It's just, well..." he took a breath before continuing. "That's something else that happened this past week. She...died."

You suddenly understood his silence; you couldn't find anything to say yourself. Peggy...Peggy had been one of your best friends as the only other woman around most of the time. The world had no business in letting go of such a fantastic woman.

"Sorry I didn't tell you sooner," Steve apologized.

You and Bucky both raced to tell him that he shouldn't have to be sorry, and ended up blurting out the message at the same time and letting out small laughs.

"You go," Bucky told you.

"Thanks," you smiled. "You don't need to be sorry. I don't think I would be able to talk about it either. That woman...she was really something, wasn't she?"

"No kidding," Bucky agreed. "It's not fair that people like me are alive and well while people like her...I just can't believe it."

"Neither could I," Steve shrugged.

The door to the room opened, and T'Challa stepped back in, closely followed by a few people in white lab coats. "If you still plan on following through with this, Mr. Barnes, now is the time," the King said.

Bucky nodded in agreement. Steve helped Bucky to stand up, and the dark-haired man pulled his best friend into a hug. You couldn't help but wonder if you would have made the same decision if you had lived, and T'Challa hadn't told you that you were supposed to stop it from happening. However, things were the way they were now, and you knew that you had to make it so that you could get Bucky out as soon as you could.

You were very surprised when Steve helped you up and wrapped you in an embrace, the same as Bucky. You accepted it, though, and tried to fight the tears as your best friend hugged you again.

"Thank you," the blonde whispered.

"Of course," you said back, not bothering to ask what he was thanking you for.

As soon as Steve released you, Bucky pulled you in, too. After a moment, he pointed out, "This is the most awkward hug ever."

"Yep," you agreed immediately.

"Why, because you're basically hugging yourself?" Steve inquired, cracking a smile.

"Nope," the two of you responded. The smile disappeared from Steve's face, replaced with confusion. As you and Bucky released each other, you both held up your right arms.

"It's hard to hug someone when both you and the other person only has one arm," you explained while Bucky nodded.

Steve placed his face in his hand. "Only you," he said exasperatedly.

"Mr. Barnes," a woman in a white lab coat pressed. "We need to do this now."

"Right," he acknowledged glumly. "We do need to do that."

As the chamber began to freeze Bucky, you reached for Steve's hand anxiously. He didn't let go. You hated watching Bucky's face disappear as the glass of the cryo chamber misted over, but it made you more determined to help find the answer to this Winter Soldier mess. It wasn't just for you anymore. It was for Bucky, and for Steve just the same.

You didn't know how long you and Steve silently sat in that room, hand in hand, but it was dark outside when one of the staff came to take you to your rooms. Steve still wasn't letting go. You figured that he had forgotten that your hand was in his, but that theory was disproven when he squeezed it as your hand began to shake lightly.

You were directed to your room first, and it was there that Steve finally let go of your hand. "I really can't thank you enough. You just show up out of nowhere, willing to help a complete stranger," he stated.

"Well, Buck's not really a complete stranger to me. He's the other half that I never knew I had. And besides, who do you think I picked the 'showing up and helping strangers' thing?"

"I can't imagine who," he replied honestly.

"Come on, Steve. You know him pretty well, I feel like. He's big, dumb, blonde, had never kept a rule in his life..." you trailed off, waiting for him to get the picture. His eyes widened, and his face turned red. "It took a bunch of scientists and some goo to make everyone see the you that I knew, but I've always thought you were amazing, Steve. You'll always be that punk from Brooklyn to me."

"Gosh, you sound just like him," he sniffed.

"Because I am him, Steve. Get used to it," you teased. The two of you chuckled, and you wanted so badly at that moment to be back with your Steve, the one that knew you as you were. You could only imagine how much he was hurting without you.

In a spur-of-the-moment decision, you pressed your lips to Steve's cheek. "I love you," you told him earnestly before you disappeared into the room that you had been granted and closed the door softly behind you. "I only wish I'd told you before," you whispered to yourself.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I have like 3 more of these in the works but none of them are even close to being finished
> 
> Also is anyone interested in a part 2 because every time I reread this I want more but then I remember I’m the one who wrote it and therefore has to write more
> 
> Honestly if even like 2 people say they want a part 2 I’d write it


	42. Help Me Through (Bucky x Wanda)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> This was a request sent in by a tumblr user. It's a werewolf AU

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Okay guys who's ready for the worst thing ever written ever

The moon had never looked like that before. It had never made noise before. Yet, here it was, bigger and more luminous than Wanda had ever seen it, filling her head with indescribably harsh noise. She was brought to her knees onto the soft ground in the forest, her hands clutching her head.

Her whole body hurt like someone was inside her, poking needles under her skin. It felt like someone was growing and shrinking her bones, and they were ready to snap. He looked at her arms and saw thick, coarse hair sprouting from them. She almost had a heart attack. No. She couldn't be one of them.

Wanda screamed.

Almost a mile away, someone heard her. He had already transformed, being a few years older and more experienced with the werewolf transformation than the young girl. He remembered his first transformation, and that he wouldn't have gotten through it without someone helping him. So he ran. He ran to find the screaming girl.

Wanda fought against whatever was going on. She just wanted to be a normal kid, not a wolf. Her twin brother, Pietro, wasn't one, so why was she? Her parents were killed by werewolves, and she despised the idea of becoming one herself. She hugged herself and cried through the pain.

The wolf heard every sob. He had covered almost all of the distance he needed to in a few short minutes. Being a rogue, he had trained himself for speed. He wasn't looking for a fight, just solitude. It helped that he was naturally faster than most.

He stepped slowly into a clearing in the forest. The brown haired girl looked up in fright as she heard the grass rustling.

"So," the wolf thought. "Her senses have already amplified."

"Please don't hurt me!" she cried out in fear. "I haven't done anything." She tucked her head down, holding her arms over it as if it would offer substantial protection.

After nothing happened for a few seconds, she chanced a look up. Her arms fell away from her head immediately as she stared into the blue eyes of the most handsome man she'd ever laid eyes on. He had chin-length dark hair that contrasted his eyes beautifully. His chin was covered in stubble that accentuated the bags under his eyes. He was very handsome, but he was so tired.

"Don't fight it," he counseled softly.

"What?" Wanda said, coming back into reality.

"I said don't fight it," he repeated. "It just makes it worse."

Her hysteria returned, but only at half the power. "I don't want to be a monster!" she shouted.

The man seemed hurt by her harsh words but continued comforting her. He remembered the terrible things that he had thought about himself when he had first transformed. "You're not a monster," he said.

"Werewolves are monsters, and I'm turning into one. I don't want to be one. I just want to be a normal girl."

"Not all of us are monsters," he claimed, looking to the ground.

"The only ones I've ever met are," she fired back. Another wave of fierce pain washed over her, and she screamed loudly.

The man shushed her quickly. "You keep that up, and you're going to attract the wrong kind of attention. I heard you from over a mile away, so you'd better hope that I'm the only one around," he stated. His demeanor softened again. "Besides, it doesn't hurt so bad if you just let it happen."

"I can't let it happen," she sobbed.

"You're going to have to."

"Just leave me alone or kill me!" she demanded, a fresh wave of tears coming.

"A pretty girl like you? I couldn't kill you," the man said, switching tactics. "I bet you'll be the prettiest wolf of any of them."

"Wolves aren't pretty."

"Well then, someone's been lying to me for my whole life."

Wanda laughed at that. "You are handsome; I will give you that," she complimented him. "But I've never seen a wolf that wasn't a monster."

Before her eyes, he changed into a wolf, startling her into crying out loudly. The wolf looked more like a dog than the monsters that she had seen, and she was humbled. He was a pretty wolf. As he poked her arm with his nose, her hand touched some of his fur, and she was shocked at how soft it was.

She ran a hand down the almost metallic gray fur of his back, and the wolf pressed his nose into her arm again. He looked up into her eyes, pleading her to let the transformation happen.

"N-no, I told you, I can't," she insisted.

The wolf let out the saddest whimper. He was using the girl's attraction to his form against her, and she realized that.

"You are just a manipulative little ball of fluff," she scolded him. "But...okay. I can do this."

She tried not to scream as she let herself transform for the first time. It was undoubtedly less painful than fighting it, but it went against everything that she had thought since she was younger. She felt that she was almost as guilty as the wolves that had killed her parents just by being like them, but she was hopeful that this man would show her a different side to the werewolves. If he wasn't so bad, then there had to be more like him.

She was light brown in color, and her fur was as soft as a plush animal's. She collapsed to the ground in fatigue.

"I told you that you would be pretty," the gray wolf said.

"You've told me a lot of things that I didn't believe," she added. "What's your name?"

"I'm Bucky. Who are you?"

"I'm Wanda. I'm sorry for being a pain," she apologized sheepishly.

"I was a worse pain when I first transformed, I assure you," he chuckled. "Let's move as soon as you're ready. I want to put as much distance between us and here. Most wolves aren't too fond of me."

"Why? Did you do something?" she asked warily.

"It's more about what I didn't...don't do."

"If it means anything, I trust you," Wanda said.

"Being honest, that means the world," he answered.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hahahahaha see I told you it was bad


	43. It Was an Accident (dad!Tony Stark/Bruce Banner/Peter Parker x Reader)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> I can't get enough of Tony Stark being Peter's dad

"Excellent work, you two," your father commended you and Peter, clapping you both on the shoulder.

"Thanks, Dad!"

It wasn't you who had accepted Tony's praise as his actual daughter, no. It was Peter, whose eyes had suddenly gone as wide as dinner plates.

"Peter!" you shouted at your best friend as he dashed out of the lab. You stood up and ran after him, leaving Bruce and your dad giggling like fifth graders. "Where are you going?"

"Jumping out of the nearest window," he answered as you rounded the corner. He already had half of his body hanging out of an open pane, and he only paused to give you one last message, "I'll see you tomorrow in physics, yeah?" before swinging his way back to his apartment, his face almost as red as his Spiderman suit, not that he was wearing it in the moment.

"Where'd your brother go?" Tony joked as you shuffled back into the room.

"He jumped out of a window and went home," you said, sitting back down in your usual chair. "Guess we'll start planning the presentation for our science fair project tomorrow."

"Shame. I was going to ask him to join us for family game night and everything," Tony sighed in mock disappointment. He may have actually been kind of disappointed, but he was being dramatic. "Guess it'll just be you, Bruce, Pep, and me."

"Actually, Tone--" Bruce began as he started to shut down his portion of the lab for the night, but Tony quickly cut him off.

"Aw, come on, you're not bailing on me, are you? It's not a party without the threat of being destroyed."

"I was just going to turn in a little early tonight--"

"Bruce," Tony whined.

"I'm sorry!"

"How about you just play one round of whatever it is we're playing, and then you can go to bed," you suggested.

"I'd rather just--"

"Bruce," you said reasonably. "Just one round."

Your pseudo-uncle looked at you, dying to say no and go to bed, but there was only one person in the world that he couldn't say no to, and that was you. "Fine," he sighed. "One round, and if I end up playing any more than that, it's your fault."

"I will accept the blame of you having a little fun," you said, rolling your eyes.

"You sound just like your old man," Bruce mumbled.

"You make that sound like a bad thing," Tony pouted.

"Sometimes, it is."  
\--  
Bruce had ended up playing through the whole deck of green Apples-to-Apples cards with the rest of you. You had run to your room to escape the ranting that you knew was coming because you had convinced him to participate in countless game nights before. Bruce wasn't usually competitive, but card and board games brought out the not-green fire in him.

Pepper kissed Tony goodnight and went to bed, knowing full well that Tony wouldn't be going to sleep until the early hours of the morning. Seeing as it was only 10:30, a pretty reasonable hour to be awake for a teenager, at least, Tony decided to make a call to his favorite teenager, excluding you.

"Mr. Stark? Why are you calling me? Is everything okay?" Peter answered his phone, speaking in hushed tones.

"Oh, yeah, Pete, everything's fine. Missed you at family game night, that's all," Tony said teasingly.

"Look, Mr. Stark, I'm sorry that I called you..." Peter sighed, too embarrassed to go on.

"That you called me dad?"

"It was an accident, I promise," the teenager said apologetically.

"C'mon, Pete, there's no need to apologize. It's been a running joke since Germany that you're my long-lost son or something. And the way that you and (Y/N) act around each other? I'd be lying if I didn't say that you didn't seem like siblings. You're part of the family, kid. You already act like it, so maybe you should just accept it."

Peter instantly began stuttering an incoherent reply, something that he often did when he couldn't figure out the right words to say.

"See you tomorrow, then? And don't even think about skipping out on family movie night on Friday," Tony interrupted.

Peter's thoughts suddenly came into focus. "Friday? But that's the night before the science fair. (Y/N) and I should spend that time making last-minute preparations, or getting plenty of sleep before--"

"Remember what I just said? Don't even think about skipping out on it. Besides, you're my kids. You'll do great regardless of how much sleep you get the night before."

"I'm pretty sure that (Y/N)'ll kill me if we don't at least place at nationals," Peter pointed out. "In order to get to nationals, we have to win at the school, regional, and state levels."

"Listen to me, Pete. (Y/N) is a Stark, and you're basically a Stark, so nothing's going to get in your way except for excessive stressing, which, now that I think about it, is a very "me" thing to do," Tony realized, placing a hand on his chin. "Just remember that all of the other kids are medieval in comparison to you two. It's either Lord of the Rings or Hobbit for Friday. I'll let you and (Y/N) battle that choice out. Night, kid."

"Night, Dad."

Before Peter could register that he'd called Tony "Dad" again, Tony had laughed and hung up.

Aunt May gave a questioning look to her nephew, who had dropped his face into his hands. She had walked into the room just in time to hear Peter end the phone call, but she had a pretty good idea of who he had been talking to.

"Dad?" she teased. "Making calls to the dead? I wouldn't mind gossiping with your mom a little bit."

Peter snapped his head up to see her leaning against the doorjamb, his face reddening. "No, no, it was an accident!"

He would have gone on, but May stopped him. "I know, Peter, but's it's impossible not to make fun of you when you do something like that," she chuckled.

"It's just so awkward," Peter groaned. "He says it's okay because he basically considers me part of his family, but he's Tony Stark, you know? He just brushes everything off and moves on with life, so how do I know that this isn't like that?"

"Because family is part of life," she stated walking over to him and sitting on the edge of his bed. "If you've taken the time to build a relationship like that with someone, you can't just brush it off and move on. He's acknowledging that, and offering that you do the same."

"I guess you're right," Peter sighed. "Tony Stark has been my hero since I was seven, and now his daughter is my best friend and he invited me to Stark family movie night on Friday. That's not a chance that people normally get."

"Your circumstances aren't exactly normal, and neither are you. You're an extraordinary kid, Peter. Maybe that's something that you need to accept, too--you're not just like everyone else. You stand out," May said, placing a hand on his shoulder. She gave his shoulder a little smack and continued brightly, "Now go to bed. I'm tired, and you should be, too. Good night."

"Night, May," Peter said as he smiled. "Thanks."

"That's what I'm here for," she returned. She stood up and left the room, closing the door softly behind her. "Sleep tight," she called through the closed door.  
\--  
The crowd facing you was terrifying. You had thought that state was bad; nationals was a hundred times worse. As you sat onstage with the rest of the contestants, barely listening to the kids presenting, you could only think that you and Peter were up next, all eyes on you. You began to bounce your leg to work off some nervous energy, and when that didn't work, your fingers started pretending to play piano on your leg, then you ran over the presentation feverishly in your head.

Surprisingly calm himself, Peter noticed your quiet distress. He placed a gentle hand over yours to stop the rapid up-down of your leg and imaginary piano playing. The small smile on his face said everything that you needed to hear: "We've done this before; we can do it again."

The kids from New Mexico finished their presentation to thunderous applause from the audience. They sat down next to you and Peter, and then you stood up for your turn. It was rather like what you thought giving a TED talk would be like, and it went off without a hitch. Even the microphones, which had been problematic all day, didn't mess up. Neither of you forgot a word from your scripted presentation, and the applause from the audience at the end seemed to be louder and more enthusiastic than any of the other groups before you.

After you politely accepted the applause, you rushed to the center of the stage, where Peter met you with a resounding high-five that could even be heard above the applause. Deep down, you still wanted desperately to win, but in that instant, you were just happy with that moment you had shared with your friend at the National Science Fair in Washington DC.

Unbeknownst to you, that was exactly how your dad felt, too. "Look at my kids up there, Banner!" he exclaimed to Bruce, who was standing in the crowd next to him. "I don't think a man could be any prouder."


	44. Situations (Scott Lang x Reader)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The song is Situations by Jack Johnson

_Situation number one, it's the one that's just begun  
But evidently it's too late_

You sat down on the subway next to a guy with earbuds in his ears, as you were tired and didn't really feel like talking to anyone. To your surprise, the guy smiled at you and took his earbuds out. He took a breath as if to speak to you, but his eyes flicked out the window to see the particular stop that the train was at, and his smile melted.

"Crap," he muttered, quickly gathering his things and standing up. "Almost missed my stop."

_Situation number two, it's the only chance for you  
It's controlled by denizens of hate_

There weren't any empty benches on the subway, unfortunately, and you were far too tired to stand, so you chose a seat next to a guy with earbuds in his ears. You had absolutely no desire to talk to anyone after another seemingly endless day in a series of seemingly endless days. You hated your job, you hated your coworkers, who hated you in return, and you hated your boss, who also hated you. The only reason you were still there was that you were annoyingly good at your job and you made pretty good money.

The guy who you had sat next to could tell immediately by your posture and the look on your face that today had not been a good day. He usually knew better than to interfere with situations like this, but he felt like he really had a chance to help you out here. He pulled his earbuds out and turned to you with a smile on his face.

"Hey, I'm Scott," he introduced himself. "What's your name?"

You rolled your eyes, irritated to say the least. "Listen, dude."

"Scott," he insisted.

"Scott, whatever. I'm really not in the mood for this today, so how about you just put your earbuds back in and we can ignore each other like civilized people."

_Situation number three, it's the one that no one seizes  
Is all too often dismissed as fate_

Of all the things that had happened today, there was only one thing that was out of the ordinary: the man you had sat next to on the subway had decided to pull his earbuds from his ears and talk to you just as you were pulling your book out of your purse.

"Rough day?" he asked.

"Yeah," you answered, your exhaustion clear in your voice. "Sometimes, it feels like I'm the only competent employee in the whole company."

"I know the feeling," he shrugged. "Life can be pretty frustrating, huh?"

"Tell me about it," you chuckled. "I'm (Y/N). You?"

"I'm Scott," he answered, offering you his hand. "What's that book you're reading?"

"Some little sci-fi/fantasy novel. I wouldn't exactly recommend it, but I have to finish it before the book club meeting on Wednesday."

"I won't bother you, then," Scott said. "It was nice talking to you, (Y/N)."

_Situation number four, the one that left you wanting more  
It tantalized you with its bait_

You didn't care who you sat by today, as long as you got to sit down. Luckily, the seat nearest the door was empty, and it didn't look like the guy was going to talk to you, as he had earbuds in. He looked up at you as you sat down, and he smiled at you as if you were an old friend of his. He pulled out his earbuds as the train began to move.

"I'm Scott," he introduced himself, still smiling. "What's your name?"

"I'm (Y/N)," you answered, a little confused by his friendliness.

"I really like your shirt," he said. "That's my daughter's favorite Pokémon."

You looked down at the Pikachu on your shirt, beginning to smile yourself. "Does she know any others?"

"Of course she does!" Scott scoffed. "What kind of a dad would I be if the only Pokémon my kid knew was Pikachu? We played the whole Omega Ruby game together."

"That's pretty cool, I have to admit. How long did that take you?"

"Oh, it took forever. If we had just been able to play it in one sitting, or maybe even for a couple of hours every day, it wouldn't have taken us too long," he explained. "Because of my job, I can only see her once a month or so, so it took us almost a year to finish."

"That shows dedication, though," you grinned. "How old is she?"

"She just turned nine, which is crazy to me. Hey, you want to see a picture of her?"

You spent the next few minutes looking at his many pictures of his daughter, Cassie, as you learned. When it came to his stop, you quickly exchanged numbers and agreed to meet up later.

Your encounter with Scott Lang had left you feeling better than you had felt in a while. The last few weeks had been pretty monotonous, but your time next to him on the train had been exactly what you needed to keep a bright outlook on life.

That renewed view looked like it was going to stay a while, too, because the next morning, you received a text from Scott: I have two tickets for Wonder Woman Friday night. You want to see it with me?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I actually have pretty much every song from this album (In Between Dreams) matched to an Avenger


	45. Tracker 1/2 (brother!Peter Parker x Reader)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> You're Peter Parker's twin sister, who just so happens to be an Inhuman with spider powers

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Is it obvious that I love the twin sister arc?

"(Y/N), where's Peter today?" Ms. Warren questioned, used to the fact that your brother rarely bothered to show up for class.

"I actually have no idea," you replied honestly. "He may just be running a bit late, given that his locker and his previous class are both clear on the other side of the school. I'll text him and find out."

"Don't take too long," she said, then began her lecture for the day.

**Sisterkick: Dude where are you? I told her that you're probably just running a little late because your locker's so far away**

**sPiDeR bOy: Yeah sorry I was almost to class when I realized that I grabbed my math binder instead of physics. They're the same color**

**Sisterkick: Super believable, P. If you don't show up in the next few minutes I'm telling Tony you took the tracker out of your suit**

**sPiDeR bOy: Please don't I promise I'm just rounding the corner to the science hall**

**Sisterkick: Boy you had better be**

Thankfully, he walked in just moments later, his face bright pink. "Grabbed the wrong binder," he explained, then took his seat next to you. Looking closely, you caught a glimpse of red under his collar.

"Make sure it doesn't happen again, Mr. Parker," Ms. Warren warned him, knowing fully well that this wouldn't be the last time. She turned her attention back to the class.

"Nice try, Spider-Boy," you whispered.

He lowered his head in embarrassment. "Sp-Spider-Man."

"Don't you dare try to correct me, not right now," you seethed. "You either invite me on your little adventures or you don't go on them."  
\--  
He didn't show up for Spanish after lunch, either.

"I'm going to shoot him, Ned," you expressed.

"Don't shoot him, that would kill him," he pointed out casually.

"Not necessarily," you shrugged. "If I shoot him in the foot, he won't die, and then he won't have any excuse to miss class."

"No wonder you're more popular as a superhero than Spider-Man. You're a lot scarier than Peter is. I bet that Mr. Stark is going to make you an actual Avenger in no time."

"As little as I doubt that, would you stop talking about this in public?"

"Sorry."

Your phone buzzed on your desk, so you glanced down to look at who was texting you. As soon as you saw the name, you hastily grabbed your phone and took a look at the text. Even though it strictly wasn't Ned's business, you caught him looking at your phone, his eyes wide and his jaw slack with wonder.

"Why is Tony Stark texting you?" he whispered.

"He wants to know where Peter is," you answered.

**Tony Stark: Is your brother in class with you by any chance?**

**Spider-Chick: No, why?**

**Tony Stark: Happy and I were just doing a routine check on his tracker, and it looks like it's in his locker**

**Spider-Chick: That is pretty strange. He always keeps his suit with him**

"Dang it," you muttered.

"What?" Ned whispered back.

"Either Peter thought he was being smart and left the tracker in his locker, or someone shoved him inside his locker."

"Flash did look particularly smug at lunch today."

"But Flash wouldn't do something like that. He doesn't have the muscle or henchmen with the muscle," you said.

"I guess that's true. Peter probably thought he was being clever."

Your phone buzzed again.

**Tony Stark: I'm sending Happy out to check on him. He'll text you when he gets there. You haven't heard anything from Peter?**

**Spider-Chick: If someone shoved him in his locker, that someone would probably have taken his phone so he couldn't get out that easily. He wouldn't just shove the door open because that would probably damage the door and he would have to pay a fine to get it fixed**

**Tony Stark: And the kid has some pride, so he probably wouldn't just shout for help unless he knew there was someone around that wouldn't tease him**

**Spider-Chick: I would only tease him to an extent**

**Tony Stark: Yeah but not in a mean way**

**Spider-Chick: I know what you meant. Hey thanks for letting me know**

**Tony Stark: Tell him not to get into too much trouble for me**

**Spider-Chick: Why wouldn't you just tell him yourself?**

**Tony Stark: You know why**

**Spider-Chick: I definitely do, you're right. He would start spamming you with texts instead of Happy and that would be kinda terrible**

**Tony Stark: He still has no idea that you have my phone number, right?**

**Spider-Chick: No clue**

**Tony Stark: Thank goodness. Buena suerte con la clase de español. Presta atención**

**Spider-Chick: Oh sí muchas gracias**

"Tony Stark knows your schedule?" Ned squealed.

"I'm honestly more surprised that he knows how to tell me good luck and tell me to pay attention in Spanish class," you shrugged. "He pretends not to care, but he's basically an estranged father trying to become involved with our lives."

"I bet Tony Stark would be the coolest dad ever."

"Save your headcanons for later. If Tony Stark tells me to pay attention in Spanish class, there's probably a good reason behind it."

Happy's text came about half an hour later with just ten minutes left of class. It was a good thing that your Spanish teacher was pretty chill with bathroom breaks, as any other teacher would have told you to wait. As soon as you were given permission to leave, you walked out the door, not to the bathroom, but to sprint across the school to the front desk to show Happy to Peter's locker. If you weren't terrified of the man's reaction, you would have told him that he didn't look too happy to be there.

"Peter, did someone shove you in your locker?" you called out once you had arrived. Even though you were certain that Peter wasn't in his locker, you really hoped to hear a defeated "Yes." No such answer came.

"Pete?" Happy tried. Still nothing.

"Maybe he fell asleep?" you suggested, not believing a word you said.

Happy gave you a skeptical look. "I don't buy that for a minute, but I also know that there's no forcing anything out of you that you don't want to say," he said. He brought out a high-tech cylindrical tool from his suit pocket. "Which locker is his?"

"That one," you said, pointing to Peter's locker on the top row.

Happy placed the tool on the keyhole on top of the dial, and within seconds, a ring on the tool flashed blue. Happy gestured to the locker in a "be my guest" sort of manner, and you opened it, revealing...

...textbooks and binders.

"Dang it," you sighed.

Happy stepped forward, taking a closer look at the empty locker, taking note of Peter's name on the binder on top of the small stack that confirmed that this was indeed his locker. "How is that possible? The suit is supposed to be in here somewhere," the bodyguard stated, confused. He lifted up the stack of books and binders, checking underneath, then lifted each item individually to see if the suit was magically hidden between them, flat as paper. Meanwhile, you stood to the side, hoping that Peter had tried to hide or disguise the tracker well. He opened each of the binders and finally came across a small white wire tucked into the pocket of the chemistry binder. Staring at it intensely, Happy pulled the wire from the pocket.

"When did he take the tracker out of his suit, (Y/N)?"

"I don't know when he did it," you said defensively. It wasn't a complete lie. While you did know the date on which he did it, you didn't know exactly when on that date.

Happy sighed unhappily. "Go back to Spanish," he commanded. "Immediately after the bell rings, come right to the front office. I'll sign you out, and we're going to the Tower. While I wait, I'll call your aunt and let her know I'm taking you out of school for your 'internship'."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Also have I mentioned that I love comments more than life itself
> 
> Please comment if you do I’ll love you forever


	46. Tracker 2/2 (brother!Peter Parker x Reader)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> I had so much fun telling the abridged version of the DC story

"I'm gonna need the suit back," Tony said.

"What?" Peter gasped. "But-but I'm nothing without the suit!"

"If you're nothing without the suit, then you shouldn't have it," Tony snapped. "Ugh, I sound like my dad." He took a breath and put an unsure hand on the boy's shoulder. "Look at your sister, Pete."

"What about her?" the boy asked looking over at you as you conversed happily with Pepper.

"She knows who she is. She's known who she is for a long time, and I have a hunch that she was like that even before she got her powers. She's comfortable with herself. Why is that?"

"I don't know," Peter said honestly. "But I wish I knew."

"I've seen you with that confidence once or twice, you know. It always comes out when you're in that suit," Tony pointed out. "I think that you need to learn how to be Spider-Man without the suit."

"I don't know how to do that," Peter worried. "No one knows that I'm...me when I'm Spider-Man. If they found out, they'd all be so disappointed."

"Someone needs to find this kid a girlfriend," Tony chuckled under his breath. "Look, kid, this only temporary. I'm going to put the tracker back in the suit, reactivate the Training Wheels Protocol, and then you can have it back. Deal?"

"Wait, can I at least keep Karen?"

"Karen?"

Peter's face turned a new shade of red. "You know, the Suit Lady? The voice in the suit?"

"Oh, the suit's AI," Tony said.

"Yeah, yeah, I guess so."

"And you named her Karen?"

"It's a long story."

"We've got all day, Pete. Even longer if need be." When Peter remained in embarrassed silence, Tony continued, "Come on, I need a good laugh."

"I-I guess I felt bad for calling her Suit Lady, so I asked her if it was okay to call her Karen, and she said it was okay," Peter summarized.

Tony waited for a second, expecting more of a story. "That's it? That's not a very long story at all."

"It's the short version."

"(Y/N), can you help me for a second?" Tony called.

"Yeah, sure thing," you replied with a smile. "I'll be back in just a second, Pepper."

"No, no, no, that's not necessary," Peter objected.

"Why? Because she knows exactly what you don't want to tell me?"

"What doesn't Peter want to tell you?" you asked, taking your place next to your brother and slinging your arm over his shoulders.

"I need the full story on why he named his suit's AI Karen," Tony said.

"That's a really long story," you chuckled. "I'm going to guess he just told you a one-sentence abridged version."

"(Y/N)--" Peter tried to interrupt the conversation.

"It's a good story, Pete. Besides, he already knew that you took the tracker out of your suit. He might as well know why, don't you think?" you reasoned.

Peter sighed. "Yeah, I guess so, but—"

"Look, Pete," Tony said. "I promise I won't do anything else besides reinstalling the Training Wheels Protocol. Is that enough incentive to talk, or at least to let (Y/N) talk?"

"Fine," Peter relented quietly.

"Sweet!" you said, clapping your hands together. "If I tell the story wrong or leave out any details, I apologize. Feel free to correct me, or just let me look stupid. Let's go."

"I'm ready when you are," Tony shrugged.

"Aiight, so you remember when we went to DC for the Academic Decathlon?" you began.

"Yep."

"Well, Pete here only decided to go because he stuck a tracker on one of Big Scary Bird Dude's evil henchmen, and Henchman stopped in Maryland. He's lucky that Harrington basically worships him, otherwise he would have had to find another way down."

"Or he could have told me about the tracker on Henchman. That would have been smart," Tony said.

"Yeah, but let's be honest here; we're teenagers, and the part of our brains responsible for making good choices is not yet fully developed. You can bet that we're gonna do a lot more stupid stuff before we grow up.

"Anyway, we got to the hotel in DC, and Ned hacks into Peter's suit so that they can find and remove the tracker in it. While they do that, they stumble across the Training Wheels Protocol, and they deactivate it."

"How did you find out about all of this?" Tony asked.

"Hold on! I'll get to that soon, don't worry. So Peter sneaks out of the hotel and quickly discovers his beloved Suit Lady. She takes him down to where Henchman is, and he has the hardest time figuring out his web shooters," you giggled. "But then, Bird Brain shows up, and Peter goes after him. See, Birdo used these cool matter phaser thingies to get through the top of a semi and try to steal stuff. However, Peter stops him from stealing anything, but Bird Dude turned off his matter phasers and trapped Pete inside the truck. He did not realize that the top was once again solid, though, so he tried to jump up and hit his head hard. It wasn't until the truck's cargo had been dropped off that he woke up."

"Where was it dropped off?"

"Oh, I don't remember what it was called. The Deep Matter Storage Vault? No, that doesn't sound right. Peter, help me," you demanded.

"Damage Control Deep Storage Vault," Peter muttered.

"Yeah, that. The Deep Damage Storage Vault—whatever. The point is that he was stuck somewhere that he couldn't really escape from. He had a lot of time to himself, so instead of trying to contact someone that could help him, he decided to wait until the vault door opened in the morning."

"I figured you were asleep, and I didn't want to bother you," Peter said. "I knew you would need your sleep for the decathlon the next morning."

"That's actually pretty considerate, Pete," you grinned, reaching over to ruffle his hair. "I can't decide whether that's forgivable or not."

"Well-meaning, but ill-advised," Tony evaluated.

"Sounds about right," you agreed. "So while he was waiting, he decided to have Suit Lady help him figure out all of the new possibilities the Training Wheels Protocol had kept from him. After about a half hour of that, he decided that he felt bad about calling her 'Suit Lady,' then named her Karen."

Tony waited a beat before saying, "The end."

"Indeed."  
—  
After finishing the story, Peter had hidden himself away somewhere, likely in a nearby closet or bathroom. Happy was on break until later that evening, so until then, you and your brother were supposed to stay in the tower.

"Hey, Tony, do I have a Suit Lady, too?" you asked as he reinstalled the tracker in Peter's suit.

"I mean, he's not so much of a Suit Lady as a Suit Guy," Tony shrugged, "but, yeah, you do have an AI in your suit."

"Suit Guy, huh? And I know you like programming your AI's with accents. Does Suit Guy have one, or is he American like Karen?"

"Tell you what, kid," he said, looking up from the suit. "If you let me have your suit back for a little bit, I'll activate your suit's AI. I feel like it's only fair since I'm letting Peter keep Karen."

"Seriously?" you gasped.

"Do I look like I'm joking?" he asked, cracking a smile at your excitement.

"Oh my gosh, this is really happening!" you squealed. "And—just curious—if I play by the rules, when would I be able to get the Training Wheels protocol taken off?"

Tony set down his tools, realizing that if he wanted to keep up his positive image, he would need to give his full attention to you. "Well, my original plan was to let you and your brother do your friendly neighborhood Spider-Kids thing until you graduated high school, but that's obviously not going to work anymore, now that you know about it," he said.

"Right," you agreed.

"Peter and his friend were...not 'smarter;' I knew how smart they were," Tony mumbled, turning to you for what he was looking for. "Come on, what's the word?"

"Sneakier? More mischievous?" you offered.

"Along those lines. You get the point. Anyway," he continued, "I think my new plan is going to have to be to steal you guys whenever school takes a break."

"I'll take it," you nodded.

The lab doors opened with a whoosh, and Peter entered through them, a worried look on his face. "I just remembered," he began.

"Something important?" you said with false sweetness.

"If we want to put a stop to the Bird Freak, yeah," he confirmed. "I met up with one of the guys that traded with him, and he told me when the next weapons deal is going to be."

"The one on the Staten Island Ferry? Yeah, I caught wind of that, actually," Tony stated. "You don't need to worry about that. I already have the FBI ready to handle it."

"The FBI?" Peter asked incredulously. Your brother exchanged a worried look with you.

"Hate to break it to you, but the FBI's not gonna cut it with this guy," you continued. "You probably think we're exaggerating, but..."

"You can't underestimate this guy, Mr. Stark," Peter concluded.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Comment please I’ll give you all of my love


	47. Love Stinks (Peter Parker x Reader)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The song is Love Stinks by the J. Geils Band

_You love her_  
But she loves him  
And he loves somebody else  
You just can't win  
And so it goes  
'Til the day you die  
This thing they call love  
It's gonna make you cry  
I've had the blues  
The reds and the pinks  
One thing for sure 

"So Ned loves you--"

"Likes. We're sophomores in high school, Michelle. We can't possibly know what love is."

"And you love Peter--"

"Like."

"And Peter loves Liz."

"Likes!"

"Fine! Likes!" Michelle finally consented. "And from what I've heard, Liz likes Peter. Are you happy now?"

"Hardly," you scoffed.

"Man, this isn't even a love triangle anymore," she complained. "This is some sort of messed-up square or something. Why are you involving me in this again?"

"Because you don't care."

"What? That makes zero sense."

"You don't care in the sense that you're separate from this whole mess. You're not really involved," you tried to explain. "I don't know. I know what I'm thinking, but I don't know what I'm saying."

"Nah, I gotcha," she said. "I'm not apart of this messed-up love square, and I frankly don't care how it turns out, so I'm the perfect person to vent to about it."

"Yes! There it is," you exclaimed. "Thank you for being perfect, Michelle."

She gave you a look. "You need to stop telling me I'm perfect. I might actually believe you one day." She shuddered. "I can't even imagine how insufferable I'd be. I'd be worse than Flash."

"And that's really hard to do," you added, then began chuckling at a surfacing memory. "I still can't believe you had a crush on him in eighth grade."

"We don't talk about that anymore, (Y/N). We agreed that middle school is off-limits," she complained. "Besides, extreme cockiness was very attractive in the eighth grade."

"I wish you were wrong...but you're not," you grimaced. "Gross. Can you even imagine having a crush on Flash now?"

"That would be like having a crush on Tom from Parks and Rec. Really embarrassing and full of moments where you wondered why the heck you ever started to like him in the first place."

"I bet that unless Flash suddenly decided to mature, he's going to end up just like Tom Haverford," you postulated. "But, I mean, anything could happen right?"

"Well, one thing's for sure."

"And what's that?"

Michelle looked you straight in the eyes and said, "Love stinks."

You nodded slowly. "True that."

_Love stinks_  
Yeah, yeah  
(Love stinks) 

"Liz, are you alright?" you asked the senior girl. You weren't necessarily close, but you had come to care about her general wellbeing. When you saw her crying in the hall, you had to ask why.

"I'm sure you heard all about my dad. Seems like everyone has by now," she replied, her voice cracking.

"No, I haven't heard anything," you said. "You don't have to tell me if you don't want to, though."

"Yeah, I don't really want to talk about that," she sniffled. "The kicker is that I'm moving to Seattle, I guess."

A rush of joy was quickly followed by a rush of extreme guilt. No Liz meant that Peter Parker would be forced to turn his romantic attention elsewhere, but then you felt terrible that your first thought was that you were happy that she was leaving. Your horror at your own thoughts had you beet red, unable to say anything. Was it wrong to be happy that a corner of the messed-up love square was going away?

"I'm so sorry, Liz," you said, putting a hand on her shoulder. "Do you want a hug? You really look like you need a good hug."

"That would be great," she responded, unable to hold any more tears back.

Even as you embraced your sort-of mentor tightly, you still felt incredibly guilty about the part of you that was glad that she was moving.

"Take care of the decathlon team, okay? I don't want to spoil anything, but we're going to have two co-captains next year instead of just one captain," Liz told you. "I recommended you to be one of them, but who knows whether or not it'll actually happen, right?"

"Hey, regardless, I'll still keep you up to date," you promised. "I'm really going to miss you."

"Hey, Liz!" a voice called from down the hall. It was none other than the notorious Peter Parker, coming to apologize after another ill-timed disappearance.

"I need to get to class," you excused yourself. "Promise to keep in touch?"

"Of course, (Y/N)."

_Two by two and side by side_  
Love's gonna find you, yes, it is  
You just can't hide  
You'll hear it call  
Your heart will fall  
Then love will fly  
It's gone, that's all  
I don't care what any Casanova thinks  
All I can say is 

"And for the co-captains, I've nominated Michelle and (Y/N)," Mr. Harrington announced.

Michelle looked up from her book in surprise while you smiled at your colleagues as you accepted their applause.

"Thanks, but my friends call me MJ," Michelle said with a hint of a smile.

"But I thought you didn't have any friends," Ned countered, confused.

"I...didn't."

"Are we finally acknowledging that we're friends?" you gasped.

"I wouldn't go that far. We're more like ranting partners at this point."

"We've been ranting together for four years, and we're not even to the friend mark yet?"

"That sounds about right," she agreed.

"I gotta go," Peter Parker said, not looking up from his phone. "See you guys later."

"Where are you going?" Michelle stopped him.

Flustered and without words, Peter pointed at the door. Even when he was gaping like a fish, he managed to make you fall more in love with him.

"What are you hiding, Peter?" she asked, seemingly staring into his soul.

Peter stared at her, wide-eyed, making it clear that he was definitely hiding something.

Michelle suddenly burst into giggles. "Just kidding. I don't care. Bye," she waved him off.

He left quickly, clearly relieved. That arose a question in your mind: what exactly was he hiding?

_(Love stinks)_  
Love stinks  
Yeah, yeah  
(Love stinks) 

"Here's the plan, (Y/N). When we sit, I'm going to ask Ned out to distract him while you ask out Peter," Michelle stated as you walked together to the cafeteria.

"Only if you want to," you clarified.

"Oh, I want to," she chuckled.

"Because you're sick of me pining for Peter?"

"No, because I actually think he's a really nice guy."

You started laughing but soon stopped as you realized that Michelle wasn't laughing with you. "Wait, you're serious? Like, yeah, Ned's nice and all, but you actually want to go out with him?"

She shrugged. "Yeah, I actually do. He's great boyfriend material."

"Was it actually an awkward love pentagon this whole time?" you gasped. "Why didn't you say anything?"

"Because I knew you'd react like this," she grumbled. "This is why we're only ranting partners, (Y/N). You need to chill out a little bit."

"Oh, come on, 'MJ,' we balance each other out," you said as you entered the cafeteria. "You're too chill, so I make up for that."

"Whatever you say," she responded, scanning the cafeteria for Peter and Ned. Flash had decided that he liked their usual spot, and had taken it over with all of his little goons. "Oh, there they are, in the back corner."

You and Michelle walked over and sat directly across the table from them, as you had been doing since Michelle had told everyone that they were her friends.

"(Y/N), Michelle," Peter acknowledged you with a nod. He was scribbling furiously on a Spanish packet that was due right after lunch.

"You look nice today, (Y/N)," Ned complimented you. "That's a pretty sweet shirt."

You looked down at your shirt, realizing that you had decided this morning to wear your new shirt with a Spider-Man logo on it. "Oh, thanks. I just got it the other day," you said, straightening your shirt.

"Hey, Ned," Michelle interjected. "On a scale of North Korea to Antarctica, how free are you on Friday night?"

"What?" Ned asked, confused. "Um...Antarctica, I guess? I mean, I don't really have any plans."

"Cool. Meet me at my house at six, and we'll go see a movie or something," she said.

"Sounds good to me," Ned replied, smiling.

That was supposed to be your cue to ask Peter to do something with you, but you suddenly found yourself mute. The blood running through your veins was ice cold as you tried to say something.

Michelle nudged you discreetly, nodding her head towards Peter in a way that made it look like she was just flipping her bangs out of her eyes. You shook your head, your eyes wide and your heartbeat becoming frantic.

"You are so disappointing on so many levels," she sighed. Then, much louder, she said, "Oh, I forgot my homework that I was going to do. Ned, why don't you come with me to my locker so I can get it?"

"Yeah, sure," he agreed, standing up to accompany her.

As soon as Michelle and Ned were out of earshot, Peter asked you, "Why does Michelle think you're disappointing?"

"She thinks everyone is disappointing," you shrugged, covering quickly.

"But she voiced it to you, which is more than she tells anyone else."

"I'm just closer to her than anyone else. Believe me, it's not a big deal," you insisted.

"If you say so," he backed off. You slipped into an awkward silence, neither of you knowing what to say. No one said anything for a few minutes, even though both of you visibly tried a few times.

Now or never, you thought finally. "You want to go do something on Friday with me?" you blurted out.

"Oh, um..." he began, taken off guard. "Like, with Michelle?"

That wasn't what you were hoping to hear. "I was thinking it could be just the two of us, but I can ask Michelle if we can crash on her date."

"No, no, it's fine. I was just wondering," Peter covered. "Just you and me, huh? What are we going to do?"

"I haven't really gotten that far in planning yet. Is there anything you want to do?" you asked.

"There's a roller rink not too far from my place that just opened. We could do that, then go out for ice cream or something, if you want," he suggested.

"That sounds great," you grinned.

_I've been through diamonds_  
And I've been through minks  
I've been through it all 

Neither of you had ever skated before, and that resulted in a lot of falling on your backsides, but two hours in, losing your balance was at a minimum. It certainly helped both of you when you were holding hands, which made the two of you blush like tomatoes. You were okay with that, though.

"May always tells me that I should get really good at skating," Peter commented later, taking a sip of chocolate milkshake. You had decided just to get milkshakes at McDonald's after skating.

"Why's that?" you asked.

"I can take girls skating on first dates, and if they're not good at it, they have to hold my hand the entire time," he explained, chuckling.

"Your aunt is a pretty smart lady," you laughed. "Either that, or she just knows how to get the girl."

"Nah, she's smart and gives good advice about pretty much everything." Peter's phone buzzed on the table and lit up with a text message. As he read it, his eyes went wide. "Really, Mr. Stark? Now?" he complained quietly.

"Oh, your Stark Internship is calling?" you asked, interested, but disappointed at the same time.

"I'm sorry, (Y/N). It's urgent, otherwise I would just go in tomorrow," he apologized.

"No, it's okay," you assured him. "I totally get it."

"Thanks, (Y/N), you're the best. I had a really nice time tonight."

"Me too," you smiled. "Maybe we could do this again sometime?"

"Yeah, for sure!" he agreed, standing up. You walked to the door together but then realized that you had to part ways from there. "Hey, say hi to Michelle for me," he said.

Just like that, your night of fun was ruined. He wasn't really interested in you as more than a friend. His eyes were on Michelle. Tears filled your eyes as you walked home, and you sighed dejectedly, trying not to let the tears spill over.

_Love stinks_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> No to answer your question I will not stop asking for comments


	48. Proud to Be Embarrassing (Thor x Reader)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> You crash your daughter's senior prom (but it's not prom)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Welcome to 2018

_From: Student Senate_

_Hey, parents!_

_We're showing appreciation for our phenomenal staff here by letting them take chaperoning off for the Sweethearts dance. We do need adult chaperones, however, and we ask that 15-20 parents step up to help us out. Just shoot us an e-mail if you're interested!_

_Thanks so much,  
Student Senate_

"Honey!" you called out. You got three simultaneous responses, only one of which being the one you wanted.

"Yes, darling?" your husband responded.

"Yeah?" your older daughter called back.

"What?" your younger daughter shouted irritatedly.

"Husband!" you clarified. "Your presence is required urgently."

After a few seconds, he lumbered into the room with a book closed around one finger and his reading glasses resting low on his nose. "Sometimes, I wonder if you copy my speech patterns because you've been around me for too long or if you're simply making fun of me," he remarked, taking a seat next to you on the couch. Leaning close to you, he took off his glasses and set them on the armrest. "Care to enlighten me?"

"Thor, why would I make fun of you?" you asked flirtatiously. "It couldn't be because of that cute little sigh you make when you finally realize that someone's been teasing you."

A sigh identical to the one you had described escaped his lips. "I suppose that's fair," he admitted. "What was it that you wanted to talk with me about?"

"The Student Senate at the high school sent me an email asking for parents to chaperone at the Sweetheart's dance," you answered, a mischievous glint in your eye. "I was thinking that we could embarrass Catherine and Kinsley a little bit."

"I'm all for embarrassing our daughters, but you'll have to explain how we're doing that."

"We just have to go to the dance that Cath asked her boyfriend to go to with her yesterday and make sure that none of the other students do anything naughty. That's what chaperoning is," you said. Your smirk grew wider. "And while we do that, there will be plenty of time to thoroughly embarrass our children."

"Oh, by all the Asgardians hold holy, you have to be kidding me," Kinsley, your younger daughter, whispered loudly from her bedroom, horrified. "Cath, they're plotting our murders."

"They are not. They just want to have some fun," Catherine responded.

"Have you ever heard of death by embarrassment?"

"You're fine. Stop complaining."

"I wonder if Loki and Anna are planning on doing this, too," you shouted over your arguing daughters. "I bet that Senate would be overjoyed to have two Asgardians at their dance."

"Do we want to put up with that, though? We cannot properly carry out our purpose as parents if we are surrounded by fans," Thor pointed out.

"Sure we can!" you exclaimed. "We just tell everyone the stories that Kinsley doesn't want us to tell."

"Mom! Oh my gosh!"

You and your husband chuckled to yourselves. "I love you, Kinsley!" you called to her.

"It doesn't seem like it!"

"Kins, you're only egging them on. You know that, right?" Catherine interjected. The younger of the two girls didn't respond, but as you strained your ears, you could swear that you heard discontented grumbling coming from her room.

You scooted over a couple of inches in order to snuggle yourself into your husband's side. He wrapped his large arm around you and rested his head on top of yours.

"Oh, yes, you're warm," you mumbled contentedly.

"Is that all I am anymore? A heat source only to be used whenever my wife is cold?"

"No, you're much more than that. Sometimes you're free labor, too."  
\--  
"This is not as fun as you said it would be," Thor commented. "Watching these teenagers touch each other in such ways is making me very uncomfortable."

"I feel the same way," you agreed. "Unfortunately, no amount of intervention is going to do anything to change their behavior."

"At least we're able to keep an eye on our daughters. I don't know what I would do if they were to participate in this...what did you say it was called?"

"Grinding?"

"Yes, grinding. I'm not a fan of it," he stated uncomfortably. "The art of dance has been lost among you Midgardians. I remember a time when your cultures were defined by dancing—real dancing that required skill and legitimate effort."

"Those days are long gone, I'm afraid," you sighed. "Well, perhaps not too long gone. Just fifty or sixty years ago, in fact, going out dancing was common among courting couples. Steve is extremely passionate in his future wife being able to swing dance just like he did in his time."

"Darling, you're doing it again," Thor said.

"Doing what? To what are you referring?"

"Copying my speech patterns."

"Was I?" you asked, honestly trying to remember what you had said recently. "I'm sorry, I wasn't aware—"

"There's no need to apologize. I find it incredibly endearing."

"Well, then, I won't apologize," you said. "I'll just kiss you and embarrass the girls."

"I can agree with that plan," he chuckled, placing his fingers under your chin.

As your lips met, there was a loud groan from behind you that you recognized as Kinsley's. Rather than stop, however, you kept going.

"Cath, they're being gross," she whined.

"Your attitude is gross," Catherine fired back. "I think they're cute."

"Relationship goals," added Catherine's boyfriend.

You and Thor broke apart to see your daughters and Catherine's boyfriend sitting in the bleachers behind where you were standing.

"Hi, Mom! Hi, Dad!" Catherine waved to you. Her boyfriend waved happily at you, too. Kinsley, however, glared at you.

You and Thor waved back enthusiastically. "Hi, Cath! Hi, Jason!" you called back to them. As if you were addressing a grumpy toddler, you continued, "How's little baby Kinsley doing?"

"Mom!" she protested. Thor held your hand as he climbed up the steps of the bleachers to sit down next to her. On either side of her, you began to poke more fun at her.

"Now, Kinsley, I realize that this isn't as extravagant as the Asgardian balls that have been thrown in your honor," Thor teased.

"But you must admit that Student Senate did very well with their limited resources," you finished.

"Oh, gross! You're finishing each other's sentences!" she whined.

"How cute! They're finishing each other's sentences!" Catherine cooed.

"I hope that we can be like them," Jason added, lacing his fingers with Catherine's.

"Okay, buddy, maybe don't get too sappy right in front of the parents," you cautioned, turning around to look at your eldest and her boyfriend. "As far as we see it, you're just a couple of kids having fun while you're still young."

"Yes, Ma'am," Jason responded sheepishly.

"Anna and Loki have arrived," Thor informed you. "I suppose we should leave our children be."

"Not for too long, of course. We wouldn't want Kinsley to feel too lonely," you snickered.

"I'm not lonely," she protested. "One's a company, any more than that is a crowd."

"That's not really how the saying goes, but hey, whatever floats your kayak," Catherine shrugged.

Kinsley scrunched her face up, glaring at her sister. She wanted to correct her so badly, but she knew that if she did that, she would be playing right into Catherine's hands. "I hate you," she grumbled instead.

Catherine pressed a loud, wet kiss to Kinsley's cheek, leaving a bright red lipstick print on it. "I guess it's a good thing I love you," she responded.

"You're disgusting!" Kinsley screeched in horror. She rose to her feet quickly, marching off to the bathroom.

Looping your arm through your husband's as you left to find Loki and his wife, Anna, you commented, "I love our girls. They get along so well."

"At least they get along better than Loki and I used to. Kinsley has never tried to kill Catherine."

"She's also not as good with magic as Loki is. Thank the Allfather for that, right?"

"Indeed," Thor agreed.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Gosh dang I hope I'm like this with my future husband


	49. Approved (dad!Steve Rogers/Peter Parker x Reader)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Can Steve just. Calm down

"You _left_ her?"

"I-I'm sorry, Captain Rogers, sir, but she told—"

"I don't care what she told you, Parker! It was your responsibility to bring her back safe and sound, and you failed."

"Steve," Natasha interjected, "you have to give your daughter some credit, here. If she told Peter to leave her at the base, she had her reasons."

"Parker was the senior agent between the two of them. He could and should have overridden her command," the enraged captain argued.

"Cap, you know that's not how they work," Sam reminded him. "They're a team, not a commander and a unit."

"One of us has to take charge sometimes, and ninety-nine times out of a hundred, it's (Y/N)," Peter added, barely daring to speak in front of the rage-filled Steve. "Based on precedent, she wouldn't've listened to me if I had told her that I wasn't leaving her."

"She would have insisted that he leave louder and more confidently," Natasha backed him up.

"I bet money that's what happened," Tony agreed absentmindedly, barely looking away from whatever he was doing on his laptop.

"Tony, my daughter is alone at a Hydra base and you're more concerned about gambling?" Steve accused.

"Sounds about right, yep," he answered. "You know me, all about the money."

Steve muttered a few curses under his breath but decided ultimately that his quarrel was not with Tony at this moment. He took a deep breath, then turned to Peter. "Tell me exactly how it happened," he demanded, quiet rage lining his voice.

"W-well, which part do you want to hear?"

"The part that you decided that it would be okay to leave my daughter alone at a Hydra base."

"Oh, okay, so we were almost done and out of the base when we were intercepted by at least twenty agents, most of which were at least twice our size," Peter recalled. "We could have handled maybe ten or fifteen, but ten to one are pretty bad odds, even for a second generation supersoldier and a kid with the proportional strength of a spider."

"I've handled worse than that. We all have on several occasions," Steve growled.

"Steve, they're just kids!" Sam exclaimed. "We're professionals that have built our lives off of bad odds, but they're teenagers."

"(Y/N) has been training for these things since she could walk, so she has no excuse. What's your excuse, Parker?"

"Twenty men twice our size," the boy repeated. "I don't know if you noticed, Cap, but nothing is twice your size anymore."

"Being a smartmouth isn't helping your case!" Steve barked.

"Sorry, can't help it. Helps with the nerves," Peter apologized quietly.

"'Being a smartmouth isn't helping' says the biggest smartmouth in New York," Bucky scoffed.

"What happened next, Pete?" Natasha prompted before Steve could retaliate.

Thankfully, Peter caught on and answered quickly. "They were smart as well as huge. The first thing they did was separate us so we couldn't fight together. If we had been together, we probably could have taken them down, no problem, but once we were separated, it got a lot harder."

"Synergy," Bruce piped up. "The effect of the components combined is greater than the sum of their effects individually."

"Exactly," Peter exclaimed. "They separated us and pushed us into corners. They were airing some kind of heavy static on the same frequency that our comm network was on so that we couldn't use them--we need to fix that, by the way--and they were all shouting really loudly, so we couldn't hear each other. They made sure that we couldn't work together at all."

"That's a really scary thought," worried Wanda. "They must have learned that you two are practically invincible when working together."

"I've watched you two kick both Steve's and Bucky's butts enough times to know that," Sam smirked. He caught Steve's glare, and his smile melted. "Let's move on," he said.

"When did you decide to leave (Y/N) behind?" Steve questioned accusingly.

"When she told me to!" Peter exclaimed, becoming more frustrated by the second. "The static on the comms let up for a few seconds, and she told me to leave. She didn't even let me argue."

"What _exactly_ did she say?"

"I have the transcript of the comms," Bruce piped up, clicking something on his laptop. "(Y/N) told him, quite articulately, I might add, 'Get your cute little butt out of here before I make you, Parker.'"

The scientist and a couple of others snickered quietly at that, while Peter's face reddened. It was as if you had known that those words were exactly the comic relief that the debrief needed.

Steve, of course, didn't seem to think so. "I need to have a talk with that young lady," he sighed.

"Where did her sense of humor come from?" Sam whispered to Natasha. "Sure as heck didn't come from her parents."

"I think she got it from her uncles," Natasha whispered back. "Mostly you and Barton."

"Anyway, that can't be all she said, Banner. Parker'd better have backbone than that," Steve groused.

"Peter did refuse, but then the static started coming back in. She did get to say just a little more before the comms were useless again," Bruce affirmed. "'Tell my dad I'm sorry, but tell him that he knows I can hold my own, too. Don't take too long coming back, 'kay?'"

"It's like we said before, Steve," Bucky piped up. "You've gotta have faith in your kid."

"We all trained her, remember? She'll be fine. We just have to go pick her up," Natasha added.

"Who wants to go on that extraction mission? We should leave within the hour," Rhodey initiated.

"I'm the only one that's going," Steve said. "That's final."

"No, I'm going, too," Peter asserted.

"Who votes that Steve doesn't go?" Bucky called out. Everyone else in the room, including a very timid Peter, raised their hand. "Sorry, pal, looks like you've been outvoted," he shrugged unapologetically.

"You can't do that!" Steve shouted, suddenly on the defensive. "She's my daughter, and I have the responsibility to keep her safe."

"Funny, you were just trying to pass that responsibility off onto Peter," Natasha pointed out.

Steve gaped, suddenly realizing that he had backed himself into a corner. "Fine," he conceded. "Fine. Parker, you lead the rescue mission, and I..."

"You will stay here and calm down," Tony said.

"Oh, now you're paying attention?" Steve scoffed.

"Yeah, sorry about trying to make contact with your kid this whole time," Tony snarked. "I got through to her for about a minute before that layer of static got in the way of communications again. Good news, she's been hiding in the vents this whole time and is perfectly fine."

"Barton taught her well," Natasha chuckled.

"Bad news?" Steve inquired.

"I don't know where she is, specifically, at least. She just knows she's still on the second floor of the base."

"We can work with that," Peter said hopefully. "I'll just...quietly explore the second level until I find her."

"I'll work on taking down whatever Hydra is using to block the comms," Tony said. "Who's going as backup?"

"Who do you want as backup, Pete?" Natasha asked. "We could make it a Spider-People outing if you wanted."

"Or we could make it a Bug-People outing," Scott suggested, speaking for the first time.

"I-I was actually thinking—" Peter paused and took a breath before turning to Steve. "Cap, do you want to go as backup?"

Steve was taken aback and felt a little humbled. He had just been on a path to beat the kid to a pulp, but that kid was ready to forgive him and make amends within the blink of an eye.

"Yeah, that would, um..." he cleared his throat. "Yes. I think that's a good idea."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Lol this was supposed to be the first of 3 parts but I've given up on that
> 
> Hey if y’all comment then I might consider continuing it


	50. Was This Yours? (Avengers x Reader)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> I've never stolen clothes personally but I imagine it's like this

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I worked on this for like 2 years before I finished it

"Are those my yoga pants?" Natasha asked you from the breakfast table.

You looked back slyly from where you were waiting for your bagels to pop up from the toaster. "Must have gotten mixed up when we were doing laundry," you answered.

"We all do our own laundry," Wanda pointed out. "Everyone has their own day of the week and time of day assigned to them. Getting things mixed up isn't possible."

"I may have borrowed them," you admitted.

"When? I know it wasn't today," Natasha pushed.

"Oh, I don't know..." you trailed off.

"(Y/N), I know that you know. I can read minds, remember?" Wanda reminded you.

"Merlin, Wanda, calm down," you said defensively.

"Did you just say 'Merlin?'"

"Got a problem with being a Potterhead, Nat?" you challenged.

"Just tell me when you borrowed my pants."

"I borrowed them that time that a certain billionaire decided it would be funny to replace my special laundry detergent with blue-dyed honey," you recalled. "Who even does that, Tony?"

Tony, who was half-asleep at the table, waiting for his turn to make his fancy coffee, snapped to attention. "What did I do, again?"

"Something stupid," you scoffed. Tony shrugged and nodded, accepting that your remark was more than likely true. "Anyway, all of my workout clothes were in that load, so you let me borrow an outfit for the next week. I gave the sports bra and shirt back to you the next day, but I spilled syrup on the pants at breakfast the last morning after a run and told you I would wash them. I forgot to return them after that."

"(Y/N), that was a long time ago," Natasha said.

"Three months, to be exact," Wanda added.

"Okay, okay! After I eat something, I'll run upstairs and change so I can give them back to you," you conceded. "These are very comfortable, by the way. Where'd you get them?"  
\--  
"(Y/N), is that my jacket?" Steve asked. "I've been looking for that for weeks."

"Is it your jacket? I could have sworn it was—"

"It's way too big to be your jacket. Don't finish that sentence."

"Okay, Mister Grumpy-Pants. Maybe it is your jacket, maybe it's not. How are you gonna prove it's yours?" you challenged.

You let out a yelp as Steve grabbed you by the jacket collar, jerking you closer to him. He flipped up the tag and read out loud, "S R. As you may or may not know," he hissed, mocking you, "those are my initials."

"You initial the tags of your clothes?" you giggled. "What a nerd."

"Call me whatever you want, but it keeps my clothes from being stolen."

"Obviously it didn't, because I've had this for a very long time, and you only noticed today."

"You knowingly stole it and kept it for months?" Steve asked. "What's the point in that? You have your own jackets, and if you really like them this oversized, you can just buy them like that yourself."

"Okay, let's not jump to conclusions here. First of all, I didn't steal your jacket. You let me borrow it when the weather decided it doesn't give a darn about what season it is, and I conveniently forgot to return it for a couple of months because it's a really nice jacket," you explained. "Also I should add that you smell very nice."

"Thanks, (Y/N), that's a real concern of mine," Steve scoffed, rolling his eyes. "Now, if you don't mind, I will be taking my jacket back now."

\--

"So, (Y/N), whose look are you stealing tonight?" Tony joked, pulling you closer to him with an arm around your waist.

"You know, I don't remember," you replied honestly, to a couple of laughs from party guests that didn't realize that you weren't joking. You slung your arm around Tony's shoulders and ruffled his hair.

"Hey, watch it!" he protested, releasing you, taking a few steps, and touching his 'ruined' hair gingerly. "Do you know how long it takes to make this look perfect?"

"Not that long?" you ventured.

"Fifteen minutes."

"Oh, wow," you feigned surprise. "It only took me forty to curl my hair this nicely."

Tony ducked his head in embarrassment for a moment. "Well, you look fabulous, no matter whose dress you're--"

"Oh my word, (Y/N), is that the dress you were helping me look for just two hours ago?" Wanda asked exasperatedly from behind you.

You turned around, examining the dark blue, lacy cap-sleeve that you knew wasn't yours. "Oh, this was the dress?" you questioned. "And wait, this was yours? I would have guessed Sharon--"

"It is! Nat, guess where my dress was hiding!" Wanda called the other woman over.

"We should have known," Natasha sighed, stepping closer to you like a model and an assassin, but like a disappointed mother at the same time. Her eyes fixed suddenly on your navy blue flats. "Those are my shoes. We're not even the same size, (Y/N). How did you steal them?"

"Why do you look better in my dress than I do?"

"It's my color?"

"It's neutral; it's everyone's color," Wanda shot you down. "Hey, Nat, go find Sharon to see if (Y/N) stole anything of hers."

"'Stole' is a little harsh, now, wouldn't you say?" you appealed.

"No, not at all," she fired back. "I didn't know that you had it, and I don't remember letting you borrow it at any point in time. That means that you stole it."

"That's fair," you shrugged.

"This is a real problem. You have to stop stealing our clothes," she said.

"Oh, what, is this an intervention now?" 

"Not unless it needs to be. How much of your clothing is stolen?"

"Well, by my definition of 'stolen,' none of it," you said argumentatively.

"And by mine?"

"Not too much," you admitted. "Maybe ten percent? Ish?"

"Wow, that is a lot," she sighed. "And how much is borrowed?"

"Much more. Possibly forty percent."

Wanda's jaw dropped. "How have you gotten away with stealing--"

"Borrowing without explicit intent to return," you corrected her.

"Stealing," she insisted. "How have you gotten away with stealing so much stuff?"

You opened your mouth to respond, but you weren't so sure of how you had managed to come into possession of so much stuff, either. Luckily, Natasha returned with Sharon, so you didn't have to come up with anything on the spot.

"Fifty percent, Nat," Wanda stated. "She says that about fifty percent of her wardrobe doesn't actually belong to her."

"Oh my gosh, are you serious?" Natasha asked, looking back and forth between you and Wanda. "Sharon, does anything she's wearing belong to you?"

"Considering the dress is Wanda's, the shoes are Natasha's, and I don't borrow underwear because that's gross, I don't think there's anything else that could belong to you, right?" you 

"Earrings. Those are mine," Sharon said, walking up to you and poking the little blue flower stud in your earlobe.

"How's this for you--" you began to propose-- "I'll disinfect them for you tonight and then have Steve give them back to you."

"Listen, Sharon," Natasha said. "I know it sounds like she's being generous and sincere, but it's just a ploy to keep your earrings longer. She did the same thing with my yoga pants. It's better to just take them back now."

"Okay?" Sharon said, unsure and a little confused. "I'd rather take them back now," she told you.

You shrugged and reached up to take the earrings out. "You're already wearing earrings," you noted. "Where are you going to put these?"

"I'll just put them in my--" she put her hand on her hip, making like she was going to grab a-- "purse." She sighed and rolled her eyes. "I must have left it in my car."

"How about you borrow one of (Y/N)'s purses for now?" Natasha suggested. "She's got a huge collection, and, who knows? One of them just might be yours."

"Oh, no, I don't borrow purses, just clothes," you said.

"In fact, why don't we all just go up to her room real quick and make sure that she returns everything," Wanda continued, ignoring you. "We'll be back soon, (Y/N), don't worry. Just hang out here with Tony."

"Okay then. Have fun, I guess," you chuckled.

You turned back to Tony, who was looking at you with an expression of amusement mixed with horror.

"Don't worry, Tony, you're not left out of this," you assured him.

"Oh?" 

"I've got a few of your band shirts and have been using them as pajamas for a while."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Okay guys this is stupid BUT
> 
> I use Grammarly to edit all of the mistakes out of this old writing of mine and this is the first one that hasn't had any red alerts right off the bat


	51. Happy Birthday, I Guess? (dad!Coulson x Reader)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> If any of y'all are reading my other work Coulson Squared then this has some spoilers with love interests and storylines and such

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This came from the prompt request "You know *cough cough* most kids get money or something like that for their birthday. Not two in the gut."

"Birthday missions are usually so much more fun," you complained. "Like the time I went to Greece for my eighteenth birthday? Party. Oh, and when we went to Disneyland for my twenty-first birthday? Incredible. That wasn't really a mission, though."

"It kind of was. Fury classified it as a Level 7 excursion," your father said. "Just keep talking to us, okay? Fifteen more minutes is all I'm asking."

"I don't know if I have fifteen in me, but okay, whatever you want," you obliged. "Let's see, what did I do for my nineteenth birthday?"

"Ten minutes until we land at the Lighthouse," May called back through the quinjet.

"Ten now? Wow, she's speeding," you remarked. "She doesn't generally do that unless it's an emergency."

"This is an emergency, (Y/N)," Daisy reminded you. "You're kind of bleeding out."

"Really? No way, I was too distracted by the blinding pain to notice the blood," you replied, a sarcastic edge to your voice.

"Tell us about your nineteenth birthday," Daisy said.

"That was a fun birthday," you recalled. "Got to explore the Grand Canyon right after we took care of Thor down in New Mexico. Shut down some supernatural artifact trading in Flagstaff. A good time all around."

"Did you go on a mission for your twentieth birthday, too?" Daisy asked.

"Absolutely. Maria and my dad had been sent on an undercover mission for reasons that I'm still not quite sure of--"

"I think Fury just wanted to have us show how undercover is best done," Phil said. "Paperwork included."

"That's nice, Dad. As I was saying, they were sent on an undercover mission, and I convinced Fury to send me along with them, acting as their daughter, which, I mean, wasn't too hard for me, considering I am actually my father's daughter," you mused. "I wish I could have seen 'Ria's face when she found out when I was going with them, though."

"It was spectacular," your father filled in. "She was incredibly frustrated."

"I love how she pretends to hate me. I don't think she'd be able to get on with her life if she found out that something awful happened to me."

"Keep her in mind, then, why don't you? Try not to die for us?" Daisy suggested.

"If you insist," you sighed. "Let's see, I already told you that I got to go to Disney for my twenty-first birthday. That was my last birthday before SHIELD revealed itself to be a cover for Hydra. My twenty-second birthday was when Trip finally caved and asked me out."

"You would not believe how long it took to convince him to do that," Daisy chuckled, readjusting her right arm, which was holding down a thick cloth over your bleeding abdomen.

You gasped involuntarily. "Wow, that stings!" you cried, your voice an octave higher than normal.

"Sorry," Daisy apologized, a sympathetic look on her face. "I know how bad being shot sucks."

"I'm just thinking, you know--" you coughed violently-- "most kids get money or something like that for their birthday. Not two in the gut."

"You're not really a kid anymore, (Y/N). You're twenty-five years old," Daisy pointed out.

"Twenty-six," you and your father corrected her simultaneously.

"Five minutes," May announced.

"Okay, yeah, just five more minutes. Five more minutes," you repeated to yourself. "Wow, I am in a lot of pain. Y'all mind if I just close my eyes for a second?" Even as you said those words, your eyes fluttered shut of their own accord.

A wave of panicked protests came from Daisy and your father, but you couldn't make out any of the words they were saying. Everything was fuzzy and indistinct until one phrase from your father brought everything into focus again.

"Steve is waiting for you."

You latched onto that and brought yourself back from the darkness you were slipping into. "Steve," you said. Steve was waiting for you back at the Lighthouse. If you came back dead, he'd kill you.

"Steve, that's right," Daisy followed up, squeezing your hand. "Captain freaking America needs you to come back and stay alive for him."

"You know," Phil began, "Steve and I had a pretty interesting conversation before we left."

You forced your eyes open, and Daisy and your father let out a sigh of relief. "I'm sorry, what now? What kind of interesting conversation?"

"Ah, see, I knew that'd get your attention," he teased you. "It's really not for me to talk to you about. I'm sure he'll fill you in when we get back."

"Oh my gosh, he's going to pop the freaking question, isn't he?"

"No, stop, you're not supposed to guess!"

"Oh, sorry, I mean--gee, what on earth could my boyfriend of two years have been talking to my dad about?" you scoffed. "It's a real mystery to me, gosh. Thanks for ruining the surprise."

"Yeah, I may not have thought that one through very clearly, but it got you alert," he shrugged.

"Okay, okay, point Coulson Senior."

"Twenty-third," Daisy interjected.

"Oh, boy, did I have a twenty-third birthday? That whole year after Trip died was just a huge mess and I don't remember a lot of it. Next?"

"Come on, (Y/N), you don't remember your twenty-third birthday?" Daisy pushed.

"Not particularly well, no."

"That was the one where we went out and celebrated with all of the girls, remember?"

"Oh, that twenty-third birthday!" you exclaimed, finally recalling. "Bobbi got so drunk that we had to call Mack to take her back to base. Where and when did she even find alcohol? You guys all promised that you wouldn't drink that night."

"You know as much as I do," she admitted. "Bobbi always had her ways."

"No doubt," you agreed.

"Twenty-fourth," Phil said.

You could feel the quinjet beginning to land; you wouldn't have to hold out much longer.

"Steve took me out. It was one of the few days that I had free from looking for you, Quaker Oats," you said, giving Daisy a pointed look. "That's also when I told him that my dad was actually brought back to life with alien soup. He actually took it a lot better than I thought he would."

"How did you think he would react?" Daisy asked.

The quinjet landed, and you could hear people rushing to greet you.

"Lowkey rage monster," you said. "And he was like that for a little bit, but then he just sat down with his head in his hands and said 'I don't know why I'm surprised, honestly. I've witnessed weirder at this point.'"

"Are you telling them about when you told me about your dad?" Your pained grimace involuntarily grew into a smile when you heard Steve's sudden voice.

"Oh my gosh, that's actually Captain America," Daisy whispered. "Like, I never doubted she was dating him, but he's real and standing right in front of me. And he has a beard now?"  
She looked at Phil for some form of confirmation, and he shrugged simply, wearing his trademark blank smile.

"They were making me keep talking and it came up," you said to your boyfriend. You turned your head and met his worried blue eyes. "What can I say? I missed you."

"You weren't even gone for twenty-four hours," he countered. "Why do these things happen the second we're separated?"

"What things? The telling of semi-embarrassing stories or the injuries? You have to be more specific, love."

Steve smiled involuntarily as well and ducked his shaking head. "All of the above, doll."

"Oh my word, she just called him love, and he just called her doll," Daisy muttered to herself. Then, to the two of you, she said, "You two are going to make my heart explode if you keep being so cute, so you'd better stop and get Jemma working on (Y/N)."

"Yeah, we need to act fast. Here, I'm going to lift you up and set you on this...stretcher thing over here, okay? Count of three," Steve warned you, sliding his arms underneath you. "One...two--"

You sucked in a gasp and suppressed a scream through your clenched teeth as you were lifted and placed gently down. "Why does this hurt so much worse than the last time I was shot in the stomach, huh?" you grunted.

"You lost consciousness last time," Phil answered. "That's coming up on five years now, isn't it?"

"I'd give it a solid four and a half," you estimated.

"Also you got shot twice this time," Daisy added.

"That's gotta play a part, too," Steve agreed, beginning to push you out of the quinjet and into the Lighthouse. "Dang it, doll, why'd you have to go and ruin my plans for your birthday?"

"It wasn't my fault that someone other than SHIELD finally learned how to aim a gun," you argued. "But yeah, other than that, this was all one hundred percent intentional on my part. For sure. Totally. Why? Because why not, you know? Why not ruin my boyfriend's secret plans that I didn't even know existed."

"Okay, I get it. Not your fault," he conceded.

"Dang straight, boy."

"IS THAT CAPTAIN AMERICA?!" a voice called from deep inside a room you were passing.

"Oh, no, not again," Steve groaned.

"Again? Who's been pestering you?" you asked Steve. No one that you knew matched that obnoxious voice.

"CAPTAIN AMERICA, WAIT!" A series of metallic crashes preceded a wild-haired and -eyed man bursting out of the room to follow you, Steve, Daisy, and your father as you all made your way quickly down to Jemma's makeshift lab.

"Deke, stop, not right now!" Daisy attempted to brush him off, talking to him as if he were a little kid.

"But it's Captain America!" Deke protested. "And, woah, is that your daughter, Coulson? She's gorgeous!" His already wide eyes became wider as he looked at Steve's stormy expression. "But, not like, too gorgeous, you know? Like, I'd never make a move or anything like that."

"Thin ice, Deke," Steve growled.

"What's wrong with her?" Deke asked, switching subjects abruptly.

"She got shot, okay? Now go occupy yourself with something else," Daisy said, clearly annoyed.

"You got shot?" he asked you. "Man, I know what that's like. It really sucks. A little bit of advice? Make sure your real friends are the one giving you those painkillers. You might say some things or make some confessions that you don't want certain people to hear."

"The heck is wrong with this guy? Are you high or something?" you questioned.

"I'm sure there will be time to get you and Deke properly acquainted later," Phil intervened. You had arrived at Jemma's lab, and Daisy was filling her in on the details of what had happened."Listen, Deke, she needs Jemma's attention now, and you're kind of a distraction."

"Kind of?" Steve scoffed.

"What I need you to do is make sure the birthday decorations are all set to move down to the recovery area. Can you handle that?" Phil continued.

"Oh, wait, that's right! It's her birthday!" Deke exclaimed. "Hey, uh, happy birthday, I guess?"

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> If you give me comments I’ll write faster and give you more fics to read


	52. Dialogue Prompts (August 2018) 1/2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> My tumblr blog turned 2 and I opened up the prompt request list as a celebration. I got twice as many requests as I did the last time

**Prompt 48: "I hope you're happy."  
(Steve Rogers x Reader)**

It had been nearly a year since you'd had any sort of contact with any of the members of the Avengers, yet here you were, pulling up to Tony and Pepper's wedding reception the night before they were finally going to tie the knot. When you had received the invitation, complete with a little handwritten note from the groom himself, you knew that your days of avoiding your friends had to come to an end. Well, at least all but one of them. You still weren't ready to face him.

You signed in and dropped your gift off at the table, then went and joined the line to greet the bride and the groom. Tony's face lit up when he saw you, and he nearly crushed you with his relieved hug. It was so nice to feel the warm arms of a friend around you again.

"I'm so glad that you came," he told you, holding you at an arm's distance. "You have no idea how worried we've all been about you."

"I'm sorry I cut myself off the way that I did," you apologized.

"You don't have to be. We all understood why you did it," Tony said, giving you a warm smile. "We've just missed you like crazy is all."

"I'll make sure to make my rounds and say hi to everyone," you promised.

"If you're ready."

You nodded your head slowly; you knew exactly what he was getting at. "If I'm ready."

At the small dessert buffet table, you found more than enough to satisfy your stomach, and you were happy to find a seat at a table with some of your friends, thankfully not including the one person you were trying to avoid. Wanda was happy to show off her engagement ring, Peter introduced you to his new girlfriend (or new to you, at least), and you finally got to meet Cassie Lang. Clint's family showed up a little late, of course, and his kids were all happy to see their Aunt (Y/N) again. Everyone was overjoyed to finally see you again, and you were just as happy to see them.

"Hey, looks like the party table is over here!" Sam said from behind you.

You turned your head to greet another one of your friends that you had missed so much, but you found yourself frozen once you locked eyes first with Steve.

The laughter and joy died around you as everyone waited with bated breath to see what would happen next, who would react first.

It ended up being you. Without a word, you stood up and walked towards the exit, hiding your face from anyone that might be watching.

You heard Natasha shout, "Steve, don't you dare follow her!" so you took a detour through groups of people in order to deter him.

Stopping by Tony one last time, you darted through the line to tell him that you were leaving and promised that you wouldn't be so much of a stranger anymore.

Just as you were unlocking your car, his voice froze you once more: "Wait, please."

You were completely still, barely daring to breathe.

"I just wanted to talk to you."

"Well, I don't want to talk to you."

"Please, you don't have to leave. I'll go instead," he pleaded.

"Oh, yeah? Then why was it me that had to leave when you broke my heart?"

"I never asked you to do that!"

"But I did it for you anyway! I gave up everything for you, and you never even thought about doing anything for me!" you shouted. " **I hope you're happy** , Steve, because I did everything so that you could be."

You opened your car door and ducked inside.

"(Y/N), wait, please!"

"No!"

You slammed and locked your door definitively, driving off to leave Steve standing alone by himself, defeated.

 

**Prompts 4 and 37: "For some reason, I'm attracted to you." "Looks like somebody's all hot and bothered."  
Pietro Maximoff x Reader**

"WHAT IN THE HECK IS GOING ON?" you shouted as Wanda's red light pushed you into a room, shutting and locking the door behind you.

"CONFESS!" she yelled back at you through the door. "I AM SO SICK OF BOTH OF YOU!"

"WHAT ARE YOU TALKING ABOUT?"

"Probably me," an irked voice piped up from behind you.

"Gah!" you gasped, turning around to see Pietro leaning against the wall, looking at you with some sort of deadpan/glare combo. Your eyes widened and you turned back to the door, frantically pounding it. "WANDA! NO! YOU CANNOT POSSIBLY BELIEVE THAT THIS IS A GOOD IDEA!"

"I DON'T, BUT IT'S THE ONLY WAY TO RETRIEVE MY SANITY!"

"WANDA MAXIMOFF, YOU LET ME OUT RIGHT NOW!"

"Well, it sure **looks like somebody's all hot and bothered** ," Pietro teased you, sauntering up next to you.

"Don't flatter yourself," you spat, your face growing hotter by the second.

"Oh, no, not like that! I just meant that you do not seem very happy to be here," he clarified.

"Look at that, P, you're actually right about something for once."

"There's no need to be hostile anymore, (Y/N). You heard my sister-we're not getting out of here until we confess," he pointed out.

"Confess what?" you questioned, playing dumb. You had pride that you were not willing to let go of, even if it meant never leaving this room. Nothing was going to make you confess your crush on Pietro.

The relationship between the two of you had started out as friendly, but once you developed a crush on him, it seemed the only interactions that you could foster anymore were hateful and just plain mean-not just from you, but on his part, too. As badly as you wanted to admit your feelings and just be nice again, your reputation and fear of rejection wouldn't let you give in.

"If that's how it's going to be, then I'll go first," Pietro offered.

"I don't even know what you're talking about," you lied.

"I like you a lot, (Y/N)," he said, ignoring your failed attempts at deceit. "I'd like it even more, I think, if we could drop the act that we hate each other and maybe, I don't know, go and see a movie instead."

"Ah," was all you could say in response, your eyebrows raised in surprise.

"You see how this works, yes? Now, it's your turn."

"My-my turn?"

"I don't want to be in here any longer than I must. You don't have to agree to anything, just say the magic words, and my crazy witch of a sister will let us go free!" he promised.

"There's nothing to confess," you insisted.

"I kinda have to pee, if that compels you any."

You sighed, burying your face in your hands. The butterflies in your stomach felt more like hot knives. "Fine!" you exclaimed. "Fine. **For some reason** that I can't figure out for the life of me, **I'm attracted to you**. And yeah, fine, a movie date sounds great."

"Yay!" Pietro celebrated, clapping his hands together. "Wanda, can we leave now?"

"KISS!" she shouted through the door.

Both of your mouths dropped open, and you exchanged horrified expressions with one another before yelling back, "WANDA!"

 

**Prompt 24: "Just play along."  
Bucky Barnes x Reader**

"Listen, I'm grateful for your offer, I really am, but I don't want to be a burden," Bucky said.

"A burden? You?" you scoffed raising an eyebrow at your friend. "Come on, Buck, it's a family Pioneer Day celebration. There'll be more than enough food for everyone whether you come or not, if that's what you're worried about. Plus, I guarantee you won't be the only person there that's not a member of the family or dating one."

"That's not really what I'm worried about," he responded, glancing down at his hands.

"Buck, this is my family we're talking about--quite possibly the kindest and most loving people in the world," you pointed out. "They managed to host half of the Avengers for Christmas last year, so I think that it's going to be nothing to accommodate just one. Well, two if we're counting me, but I was already expected. Plus we're here alone for the week and dinner's on me tonight, remember?"

"You make a compelling argument," he sighed.

"I'd like to go with the word irrefutable, but that's because I'm the one making it. Now come on, bud, hop in the car."

\--

As usual, the unique picnic spot that one of your aunt/uncle pairs had found was secluded and fantastic. Most of the younger cousins were already off playing in the near surrounding wooded area, while the older cousins sat around talking with one another. The arrival of you and Bucky drew immediate attention from your grandmother and your parents.

"If it isn't my favorite granddaughter!" your grandmother greeted you jokingly.

"And our favorite daughter named (Y/N)!" your dad followed up.

"Still single I see?" your grandma commented in jest. You shrugged, grinning. "Ah, see, I told you, (father's name), she's just not pretty enough to find a boyfriend."

"I'm her boyfriend, actually," Bucky piped up, having just returned from the restrooms.

"You are?" your mother asked.

"I am," he nodded.

"Bucky—" You began to attempt to explain that your grandma was just teasing you, that she meant no harm, and you didn't take any, but he cut you off.

" ** _Just play along_** ," he whispered to you in another language.

" _We don't have to; she was joking_ ," you whispered back.

" _Okay, let's make it for real then_ ," he said, pink riding to his cheeks.

You stared at him for a moment, your eyes bright and a stricken grin on your face.

"Yeah," you said, turning back to your family and lacing your fingers through his. "He is my boyfriend." You were already the best of friends, and the sudden jump to dating had been long coming. This just wasn't how you had expected it to happen.

"Why didn't you say so in the first place?" your mother inquired, grinning at how happy you had just become. She, nor anyone else, knew what had just happened, but she could sense the joy radiating off the two of you. "How long have you been dating?"

You exchanged a cheeky glance with Bucky, and said, "Not too long."

"Not long at all," he agreed, giving your hand a squeeze.

 

**Prompts 7 and 8: "Please stop doing that to yourself." "No one's going to hurt you, okay?"  
Steve Rogers x Reader**

"(Y/N), open your door!" Steve demanded. "Or just unlock it! It's just me, I promise!"

He let out a sigh of relief as he heard the locking mechanism click. He opened the door slowly and quietly, not sure of what he was going to find inside.

"I can't control it," you whimpered.

"It's just a phase," he reassured you, stepping carefully over and through the ring of debris around where you had presumably been sleeping. "You've already learned to control so much of it."

"I can't do it fast enough. I could hurt someone, Steve; you should just let them try to take this away."

"We don't know the effects that could have on you, and we can't afford to lose you again. _I_ can't afford to lose you again," he emphasized. He crouched down next to where he finally found you, curled up in the fetal position in the corner of your room.

"And I can't afford to lose any of you," you sobbed. "The dreams keep getting worse, and the destruction just gets worse every time. I've been trying not to sleep so much so that—"

" **Please stop doing that to yourself** ," Steve cut you off. "Let's look at what you have been able to control."

"When I sleep, there's nothing that I can do to stop myself or this," you refuted.

"That's not what I'm talking about. You have almost total control when you're awake. You even unlocked the door from all the way over here," he pointed out. "That's a serious improvement from the first time you used it outside that lab."

"They're going to find me sooner or later," you worried. "I can't go back there, or—"

"There's no need to think those thoughts," Steve reminded you. "We're all the way out here in the middle of nowhere, and the only people that know where we are are the rest of the team and Fury. No one's going to find you, and **no one's going to hurt you, okay?** And when we do go back, they won't be able to lay a finger on you." He reached out to touch your hand.

"No!" you shrieked suddenly, pulling away at the last moment. "Don't you remember what happened to Tony?"

Steve chuckled. "Yeah, you trashed his suit pretty good, but he's fine. A little shaken up is all, but I'm sure he's already good as new. Do you want to call in the morning and find out?"

"That would be nice," you admitted. "I don't want to trash...you, though."

"Your control has gotten so much better since then. I bet I'll be fine," he said, smiling softly.

Not too quickly, he reached out once more to lay his hand on top of yours. With bated breath, you watched but didn't act to stop him.

Your entire body relaxed when you felt his warm touch for the first time in months. Nothing happened; you were clear.

Steve wasted no time in pulling you into his arms, and new tears spilled from your eyes, not of fear this time, but of relief. He kissed the top of your head, blinking back tears of his own.

You sat down together on your semi-stripped bed, and he took your left hand in his.

"You see this?" he asked, pointing to the diamond on your finger. "I mean it now as much as I did before all of this. They pushed the date back a little bit, but it's still happening, right?"

"Of course," you affirmed.

He leaned down and kissed you softly, the first time he had done so in too long. "Good," he said. "We've had to wait too long already."

 

**Prompts 9, 12, and 20: "I'm fully aware that it's one o'clock in the morning." "You'd better hope my father didn't hear that." "No, what you need is some pizza and a hug."  
dad!Phil Coulson x Reader**

You were awoken by a loud sneeze. Normally, noises like that wouldn't startle you awake, but you were having a really strange dream anyway, so you were sort of thankful for the interruption. Curious as to who was awake and outside of their bunk at this hour, you sat up and turned on your lamp. Yawning, you then stood up and opened the sliding door to your bunk, revealing Skye sitting at the table with her laptop screen casting an eerie bluish-white glow on her face. Now that the door was out of the way, you could hear her sniffing and see the tear tracks on her face.

" **You'd better hope my father didn't hear that** ," you remarked, leaning up against the doorframe while you waited for a head rush to clear.

"Oh, (Y/N), hey," she greeted you, quickly raising her sleeve up to wipe under her eyes. "Did I wake you up?"

"Yeah, but that's okay," you shrugged. "You know what time it is, right?"

" **I'm fully aware that it's one o'clock in the morning** ," she affirmed. "But with everything that's been going on lately, it's kinda hard to sleep, you know?"

"I do, yeah, but I find that actually trying to go to sleep helps a lot better than keeping myself awake," you pointed out jokingly, gesturing to her laptop. You sat down on the adjacent side of the table from her. "So, is there anything specific that's got you so worked up tonight?"

"I think it's just the stress of everything getting to me all at once," she answered. "Fitz just woke up, and he's barely himself anymore, Jemma left because she felt like she made him worse, and now she's undercover at Hydra, there's a destructive, murderous trail that I leave wherever I go, we almost lost you--" she began choking up again-- "and Ward, I-I guess..."

"Ward, you guess?" you repeated. "Sounds more like that's mostly why you're crying."

"Sorry, it's really pretty stupid."

"No, listen, crying is okay. After everything that we've been through? Crying is expected, honestly. I just don't like doing it myself," you explained. "What about Ward is tearing you up so badly?"

"I..." She let out a shaky breath. "I had feelings for him. And he had feelings for me, or at least, I think he did."

"This may not be the time, but I feel like you should know that he kissed me."

"Oh my gosh, what? When?"

"Back when I was helping him unpack all of the Berserker Staff drama," you said. “When he started sleeping with May, when he started opening himself up to you. Who knew my first kiss was going to try to kill me not too much later?"

"Such is the world of SHIELD, right?"

"Correct," you chuckled.

She had stopped crying for the most part and had shut her laptop.

"Listen, don't feel like you need to get over this overnight because that's not really how these things happen," you reminded her.

"But you have, haven't you?"

"Of course not, but I'm getting there. This hurts a lot more for you than it does for me, as far as I can tell, but just know that you can rely on my dad and me and anyone else on the team. We've all got to rely on each other."

"Thanks, (Y/N)." She ran her hand through her hair. "I just really feel like I need to put this all in the past and focus on the future."

" **No, what you need is some pizza and a hug** ," you countered. "It shouldn't be too hard to convince my dad to land and grab some pizza tomorrow. We all beyond deserve that."

"No kidding," she agreed. "I think I'm going to go to bed now."

You heard the door to your dad's office open above you, and you and Skye looked up to see him, dressed in his old shirt and pajama pants combo, rubbing his eyes sleepily.

"What are you girls doing up?" he yawned.

"We're talking about boys," you said. Technically it wasn't a lie.

"Trip?" he asked.

"Trip?" Skye repeated, curious.

You found yourself getting suddenly hot in the face and desperate to change the subject. "Can we get pizza tomorrow?"

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> We are. Very very close to running out of content that I have already created. We have like. 3 things left
> 
> That’s only three more days
> 
> So like comment perhaps? Eh?


	53. Dialogue Prompts (August 2018) 2/2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> All of these actually took me until like March to finish

**Prompt 34: "You should wear that more often."  
Tony Stark x Reader**

The new dress that Natasha had helped you to pick out certainly seemed to be doing its job. It seemed that all eyes were turned to you as you made your way around the party, greeting your friends that were scattered around the room. The dress was just the right amount of tight and not-too-revealing to make you feel completely comfortable and confident, which was rare in any article of clothing, really.

You had yet to see the reaction of the one person whose attention you were trying to attract, though, and so you kept walking around, looking for him.

Steve waved you over to where he was standing with Sam and Bucky.

"The guy you're looking for is up on the mezzanine above the bar, and I think you've caught his attention," he said, winking.

You followed his gaze, and sure enough, you caught exactly who you wanted—Tony Stark himself—staring down at you. Smiling slyly, you gave him a little wave. Even from this distance, you could tell that he was a bit surprised at being caught.

"Thanks for the tip, Cap," you said.

"Any time," he returned. "Is that the red lipstick that Nat has been bugging you about?"

"Sure is," you affirmed. "I actually like it a lot, despite what I thought before."

"Looks like you found your magical shade of red," Bucky added. "That's what Nat keeps saying, right?"

"Man, she even tried to find me a magical shade of red," Sam piped up. "But you know what the weirdest part is? I looked really good in it!"

"Your wife has sure gotten weird lately, Buck," you noted. "Is there an explanation or is this just Nat finally getting comfortable around people?"

"Ah, well, there is an explanation, but..." he trailed off, scratching the back of his head.

"Well, that totally gives it away," Steve chuckled.

"Gives what away?" Tony asked from behind you, placing an arm around your waist.

"Why Nat's been all over the place lately," Sam answered. "Turns out for a former assassin, Barnes is terrible at keeping secrets."

"Well, what am I supposed to do? Lie?" Bucky asked, a little flustered and exasperated.

"Probably, yeah," you said. "I feel like that's what you're supposed to do."

"This has been fun and all," Tony began, "but I hope you don't mind too much if I steal (Y/N) away from you for a bit."

"Go ahead," Steve permitted, raising his hands. "This is your engagement celebration, after all."

Tony picked up your left hand, showing off your ring. "I'm sure everyone's dying to feast their eyes on this little thing," he said, "so we'd better start making our rounds."

"We'll see you all later," you said, waving goodbye.

Once you were out of earshot, Tony leaned over a bit and began in a low voice, "While we have a moment alone..."

"Something you want to say?" you asked, a sly grin on your face. You had the feeling that you were getting exactly the reaction that you had been gunning for.

"I don't know where you got the dress you're wearing, but **you should wear that more often**."

"Give me an occasion, and trust me, I will."

 

**Prompts 1 and 9: "You've got a beautiful voice." "I'm fully aware that it's one o'clock in the morning."  
Bucky Barnes x Reader**

You were under the impression for a long time that no one knew about your one-person insomnia-induced midnight baking club. Of course, everyone knew that you had been baking the day after, but they didn't realize when or why you spontaneously made your baked goods. That impression was proved to be false tonight.

"Shoot me down, but I won't fall, I am vibranium!" you sang, careful not to be so loud as to disturb the people sleeping above you.

"Vibranium?" Bucky's sudden voice from behind you asked, startling you. "Isn't the word titanium?"

"What are you, some ghost?" you questioned, turning around to face him with your hand over your rapidly beating heart. "How long have you been standing there?"

"Not that long, but I guess that's long enough. But the word is supposed to be titanium, right?"

"Yeah," you said sheepishly. "I just think that vibranium fits a lot better, you know?"

"Oh, for sure," he agreed, moving over to sit down on one of the bar stools along the other side of the counter. " **You've got a beautiful voice** , by the way."

"Oh?" you responded awkwardly, your face growing hot while you folded over your puff pastry dough. "I mean, uh, yeah, thanks! I don't really sing a lot around people, so I guess I just don't think about it."

"That's the key, isn't it? Not thinking about it?"

"Oh, man, heck if I know. I just have an ear, I guess," you shrugged.

"Two of 'em, even," he joked.

"When I'm by myself, yeah," you said, "but like I said, I don't sing in front of people."

"That's alright. I'm kind of the same way, actually."

"Really? Never thought Bucky Barnes would have been a choir boy," you chuckled. You wrapped your dough in plastic wrap, getting it ready to put in the fridge.

"I was no choir boy, that's for sure. What are you making?" he asked, changing the subject.

"Puff pastry dough for palmiers," you answered, opening the fridge and setting the dough inside.

"You know how late it is, right?"

"Oh, yes, **I'm fully aware that it's one o'clock in the morning**."

"Check a clock, doll. You're way off," he said, laughing at you both because he thought your misconception of time was funny and because he was a little concerned for you.

You turned to the nearest clock, which happened to be on the oven, and blinked a couple of times. "Okay," you said, "so it may be half-past three."

"May be?"

"It is half past three," you stated. "But I just have one more set of folds on this dough, and then I can go to bed and bake the cookies in the morning."

"And how long before you can do that?"

"Half an hour," you admitted.

"So it's going to be a while. How long were you planning on sleeping tonight?"

"Oh, honey," you laughed. "Sleep is not simply something one can plan. It comes and goes whenever it darn well feels like it."

"Well, I'm not going to let you stay up all by yourself. Grab this seat next to me here, and maybe..." he paused, then sighed. "No, not maybe. It's midnight karaoke time."

"You're on, choir boy."

 

**Prompts 9 and 18: "I'm fully aware that it's one o'clock in the morning." "Thank you for telling me."  
dad!Tony Stark x Reader**

This persuasive essay was not going as quickly as you had thought that it would. It was well into the night, yet you were barely a paragraph into this paper that was due at 7:25 the next morning. Frustrated and clearly needing a break, you ran your hands through your hair, stood up, and walked out of your bedroom and towards the kitchen, hoping to find a snack that would help you concentrate.

You found the kitchen light was already on, and upon walking in, you found your father, only moderately alert, standing next to a coffee machine that was brewing.

"Dad?" you questioned, startling him so much that he visibly jumped.

"(Y/N)?" he said, whipping around. "What are you still doing awake? It's like one in the morning. Don't you have school in the morning?"

" **I'm fully aware that it's one o'clock in the morning. Thank you for telling me** ," you responded.

"Hey, no need for sass this late at night."

"Always need for sass this late at night," you countered. "But yes, I do have school in the morning, but I also have something stupid due first thing."

"And you procrastinated it as long as you possibly could, didn't you?"

"Hey, no need for sass this late at night."

"You really learned from the best, didn't you?"

You shrugged, acknowledging him. "I'd say so."

His coffee finished brewing, and as he turned his attention toward his caffeine, you opened the pantry doors to look for that late-night snack that you'd originally been looking for.

"Toast a bagel," Tony suggested. "Or better yet, toast two bagels, and I'll fry a couple of eggs."

"And I'll slice some cheese?"

"That's the way we've always done it, isn't it?"

"Since I was old enough to hold a knife," you said, already pulling the cheese out of the fridge.

"Hey, grab me the eggs while you're over there," he requested, opening the cupboard to search for a frying pan. "Now, tell me about this stupid homework assignment you're supposed to do."

"It's just some persuasive essay for English. It really wouldn't be so bad, but I put it off until the last minute," you explained.

"Is there any way I can help you out?"

"Not that I can think of," you shrugged. "All I need is food and for my writer's block to go away."

"The two most essential things in the life of a student," he claimed, turning the stovetop on. "After you finish slicing the cheese, bring your computer out here and we'll bust out that essay together, sound good?"

"Sounds better than doing it all by myself," you agreed. "How much do you remember about writing persuasive essays?"

"Probably next to nothing, but two near-empty heads are always better than one."

"Yeah, yeah, we can write twice the amount of crap that I could alone."

"Listen here, you sarcastic little smart mouth," he demanded.

"Hey, I'm just being honest here," you chuckled.

"You're a chip off the old block, aren't you?"

"You already knew that."

 

**Prompts 31, 32, and 43: "How long?" "Please tell me you're joking." "I wasn't asking."  
Peter Parker/Tony Stark x Reader**

Self-preservation instincts kicked in for Natasha as the building she was running towards collapsed downward on itself, so she skidded to a stop, even taking a few steps back. She was supposed to be backup for the Avengers-in-training, but she hadn't been able to provide the backup that they had called for in time. Now they were stuck inside a heap of rubble.

Gigantic clouds of dust radiated outward from where the building used to be, making it nearly impossible to see or breathe, but nevertheless, Natasha had to call for someone that could help better than she could. There was only one person she could call right now, but he was honestly the last person she wanted to contact.

"Tony," she said, trying not to inhale any of the dust. "Peter and (Y/N) are stuck in that collapsed building."

He answered immediately. " **Please tell me you're joking**."

"Of course I'm not. I--" her voice broke into coughing-- "I need you here as fast as possible because I can't make out anything through this dust. "

"I'm gonna need you to at least try while I'm on my way."

" **How long?** "

"Too long," he sighed. "Give me two minutes, but until then, try to locate or contact them with the tracker gear I put in their suits."

"Copy," she choked out between coughs.

She tapped the comm gear on her wrist a couple of times, and tears sprung into her eyes when two orange blips popped up on the tiny holographic face. Orange: unconscious and in distress, but still alive.

"Scan wreckage," she commanded the scaled-back version of FRIDAY in her comm.

"Scanning," she replied. A transparent hologram began to form above Natasha's wrist, and she was able to find the exact location of you and Peter in the rubble of the building before FRIDAY even finished the complete scan.

On one hand, you were close to the ground and would be fairly easy to find, but on the other, that meant that more debris was on top of you than below.

"Send that to Tony."

"Of course, Miss Romanoff."

"Now see if you can make contact with either Peter or (Y/N)."

"Miss Romanoff, seeing as they're both unconscious—"

" **I wasn't asking** , FRIDAY," Natasha hissed. "Try to make contact."

"As you wish," the AI complied.

Natasha waited with bated breath, staring at the orange dots in the scan. All she needed was for one of you to turn yellow: conscious and in distress.

After a few breathless moments, yours did just that, flickering for a second, then stabilizing at yellow.

"FRIDAY? What's going on? Peter? Nat?" You coughed as you struggled to breathe. "I can't see anything down here."

"(Y/N)!" Natasha exclaimed in relief. "Tony's coming to find you, and he'll be there soon. Are you okay?"

"I think I'm okay. I don't know how—" you coughed again, and you used your left arm, which hurt less than your right arm, to pull your uniform over your mouth. "I don't know how long I can last down here. It's dark and really hard to breathe. Is Peter okay? Peter?"

Peter's orange dot began flickering to yellow but didn't stay on either color. "(Y/N)?" he groaned weakly.

"You won't have to hold out long, kid," Tony told you over the comms. Natasha saw the light from his boot jets streaking past her and towards the rubble as he continued, "I'm here now."

 

**Prompts 13, 15, 36, 39, and 45: "Please come home." "Are you out of your mind?" "I want to be happy here with you, but I just can't." "Stop saying that." "What are you doing here?"  
Grant Ward x Reader**

**"(Y/N), **please come home** ," Daisy pleaded with you over the comms. "He's a psychopath. There's no knowing what he could do to you."**

**"No. I'm too close to finishing this mission to quit now," you protested.**

**"It's not quitting if it's too dangerous to carry it out."**

**"It's not as dangerous as you're making it out to be. Why are you doubting me?"**

**"I'm not doubting you, I just don't--" she let out an exasperated sigh-- "I couldn't stand it if this didn't go the way you want it to."**

**You stiffened. "This isn't your concern, Daisy. Why don't you give Coulson his receiver back so that he can run this mission?"**

**"Okay, I get it," she scoffed. "You don't want my opinion or care."**

**"Never did," you affirmed, loosening the bolts on a vent so you could drop down to the floor. "Look, Daisy, **I want to be happy here with you, but I just can't**. So put Coulson back on or I'm turning the comm off."**

**"Hey, **are you out of your mind?** You're rejecting the help of someone--everyone who cares about you on the minimal chance that someone who wouldn't hesitate to shoot you on sight decides to listen instead."**

**"Put Coulson back on."**

**" **Stop saying that**! Just listen to reason for a second--"**

**You turned your comm off, as promised. "As if she knows a thing about me," you scoffed bitterly. "As if any of them really do."**

**Grant Ward was almost directly beneath you, and you almost had the bolts completely off of the vent opening. The only problem was the other man walking next to him. It would be best if he weren't there in the first place, but since he was there, and didn't look like he was going to leave any time soon, you were going to have to take him out. The problem with that was that it would make you look like you were here with hostile intent and would undermine the purpose of your mission entirely.**

**In theory, you could wait as long as it took for him to leave, but you were impatient. You took the vent cover off and positioned yourself to drop. "Here goes nothing," you whispered to yourself. You switched your comm back on and then dropped.**

**You landed just behind the other man and quickly took him out with a quick strike to the neck.**

**As Ward pulled out his gun and readied to pull the trigger, you put your hands up and shouted, "Don't shoot!"**

**" **What are you doing here?** " he asked through gritted teeth. He kept his gun up and aimed at you.**

**"I'm defecting from SHIELD."**

**\--**

**Daisy stared into thin air, tears welling up in her eyes. "What does she mean?" she whispered. She looked at Coulson, who was letting no emotion show through his blank face. "What does she mean, she's defecting?" she repeated, more angrily. "Is this part of her mission? Something you might have forgotten to mention to the rest of us?"**

**Coulson looked up at her, his face giving nothing away. "That's classified," he said simply.**

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> There was another one-shot put up between prompts 1 and 9 and prompts 9 and 18, and we crossed into 2019 between prompts 9 and 18 and prompts 31, 32, and 43


	54. Relationships Are Like Cars (Scott Lang x Reader)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Scott likes to appeal to the mechanic side of the reader. Sometimes it works, and sometimes it doesn't

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This was a request that came in from an anon on tumblr. They asked, "Could you do and angsty Scott Lang x reader? And could it end happy!"

After hours of worrying and expecting the worst, your phone finally buzzed. You picked it up quickly, answering, "Where were you?"

"(Y/N), I'm so sorry. Something came up and I couldn't call and tell you," Scott apologized.

"You told me you would be here in ten minutes, and then I didn't hear anything from you for ten hours? Do you have any idea what's been going through my head?"

"I know, I'm sorry. I wanted to call, I really did, but I couldn't."

"Why? Why couldn't you call? What came up that was so important that you couldn't call your girlfriend and make sure she didn't worry herself half to death?!"

Hearing his voice didn't make you feel better as you had thought it would. Instead, you felt as if all of the stress you had been feeling all day was suddenly compiling and hitting you in the stomach.

"I am so sorry," he apologized again. Sincerity was eminent in his voice, but you still felt hurt.

"You keep saying that, but it doesn't help, Scott. It doesn't change the fact that I've been suffering for hours," you emphasized.

"I know, and I wish I could help more."

"Then why don't you? I need to see your face, I need to know that you're really okay."

"I'm not hurt or anything, I promise, but I can't come over right now. I'm still in the middle of something, but I finally had a moment that I could call you."

"What have you been doing that was so important? Why are you avoiding that?"

"I...oh, gosh," he sighed, and you could picture him running a hand through his hair. "I wish I could tell you, I really do."

"What is that supposed to mean, Scott? You wish you could tell me? Well, I wish I could trust you!"

"Trust me?"

"Trust you!" you repeated. "Don't you get it, Scott? I can't do that right now! I have been trying to trust you for the past few months. You've bailed on me time after time, and then when we finally say 'Okay, today is the day that we have no distractions,' you tell me you'll be there in ten minutes, and you call me ten hours later to say 'Sorry, I couldn't make it.' Do you realize why it's hard for me to trust you? I can't! I just can't do that right now, do you understand?"

"Honey, you're repeating yourself," Scott said quietly.

"I know very well that I'm repeating myself! It's the only way I can get my point across to you. And do not call me honey! You don't have that privilege right now."

"Just please let me make this up to you somehow," he pleaded.

"How do you plan on doing that, huh?" you scoffed. "Making some elaborate, romantic plans, and then canceling them? Oh, yeah that sounds like a great time."

"Why won't you let me try to make this any better?" he exclaimed, suddenly letting his own frustration show through. "I'm trying to look for ways to make this better, but you're shooting everything down."

"Based on precedent," you spat.

"We can't fix this if we're letting it stay broken! That's what we've been doing for so long, and it's obviously not working. It's like knowing there's a problem with your car--"

"Scott, we're not making a car analogy out of this."

"It's like knowing there's a problem with your car," he repeated, "and not doing anything about it until you're broken down on the side of the road with no hope of ever fixing that car unless you want to pay a heck ton of money that you don't have."

"Why do you always try to appeal to the mechanic side of me when I'm mad? It never works."

"I'm trying to fix this car! I don't have your mechanical know-how, not to mention I let my first car die with a kid in the back--"

"Stop!" you shouted. "Just stop! Your stupid car analogy isn't working, so just shut up, okay?"

"I will not shut up until we agree to find a way to fix this!"

"I've tried, don't you get it? I have been doing all of the work to keep us functional, but you're only realizing that when I stop," you stated. "This hasn't been working for a long time, but you only noticed when I broke."

He had nothing to say, realizing that what you were saying was true. He sighed in defeat. "I--" he stopped himself again. "You're right."

"Don't call me again, Scott," you said, suddenly making up your mind. "We're done."  
\--  
The next few months were awful. Everything that your relationship with Scott had built up in you--your confidence, your happiness, your bright outlook on the future--began to crumble from the moment that you hung up the phone. Having Scott in your life had helped you in too many ways to count, and now that you had shut him entirely out of your life, you realized just how much of an impact he had made. Even though he was a little unreliable at times, when he came through, he came through. If you had let him follow through on his offer to fix himself and your relationship, he really would have.

That thought ran through your head constantly. Everything you had said that night had been true but blown to immense proportions. In the moment, your emotions and feelings of anxiety were running high, and it had felt right to break things off with him, but you realized your mistake very quickly. All you wanted was to call him and tell him that you were at fault, too, but your pride kept you from making that move.

"(L/N)," your boss grabbed your attention. "We just got a call from a guy down on the highway. Can you take care of that?"

"Sure thing," you told her. "Where on the highway?"

"Right before the overpass. I'll finish up this oil change," she said.

"Not the worst place to break down," you shrugged. "I'll be back as soon as possible."

"It's so close to close, you might as well just take the rest of the day after you bring the truck back here," she offered. "I'll take care of things here, and you go."

"Oh, really? Thanks!"

"Sure thing, (Y/N). I've noticed you've been kind of down lately, and I figure that you just need a minute to breathe. Have a nice evening," she smiled.

"Hey, thanks, you too," you said, grabbing the keys, then heading out.

Once you sat down in the truck, you took a second before starting it up, sitting in silence. After a deep breath, you turned the radio to your favorite station and left to find the guy that had broken down on the highway.

You could spot the hazard lights flashing before anything else, but as you got closer to the car, you began to recognize it. That ugly old brown Ford van was exactly what you needed to see to cheer you up, given that the right person was driving it...

You pulled over behind the van, but before you climbed out, you knocked on the dashboard twice, the closest thing to wood that you had around you. The van door opened, the driver seeing you parked behind it, so you opened your door as well.

"Hey, Luis!" you greeted hopefully. "How--" your words caught in your throat. That was not Luis, that was who you had least wanted the driver of that van to be.

"Uh, hey, (Y/N)," Scott said, giving a sheepish wave.

"Scott," you answered tersely, a little bewildered.

"I don't want to make this awkward," he apologized immediately. "I just had to know that you were okay."

"Is the van even broken down?" you asked.

"Oh, yeah, it definitely is," he chuckled. "It's like I said, I knew there was a problem with the car, but I--"

"You kept driving it until it broke down," you finished for him. "You have a bit of a reputation for that, don't you?"

He bowed his head bashfully. "I guess I kind of do, yeah."

He kept his distance from you, his eyes on the ground, barely daring to meet your eyes, and you mirrored him. There were a lot of things you wanted to say, and it seemed like he had a lot of things, too, but neither of you was willing to make the first move.

"Let me take a look at the van," you finally said, choosing the quickest way out of the awkward situation.

"Right, yeah!" he responded. "You want me to pop the hood?"

"That'd be best, yeah."

You lifted the hood, and you spotted the problem immediately.

"My word, Scott, when was the last time you tried to get the corrosion off of this battery?"

"Personally? Never," he admitted. "This is Luis's van, so it's his responsibility, right?"

"You drive it just as much as he does. You even help pay insurance, don't you?"

"You remember that?"

You sighed. "Is that even a question?"

"One that I already know the answer to, yes."

"At least you're honest," you allowed. "You're going to need a new battery; this one's beyond repair. If you had done something to clean it off this morning, you would have been fine, but it's gone now."

"The car analogy does work, see?" he stated out of nowhere.

"I'm not doing this right now," you sighed.

"Then later?"

Your eyes met, and you held his gaze for a few seconds. He was earnest in his emotions, doing his best to be as open as possible. He was giving you the opportunity to do the same, and for once, you weren't going to let your pride get in the way.

"If you don't want to, you don't have to. I don't have any plans for the rest of today, so if you want to come by my house later, we can talk. If not, then I'll leave you alone," he promised. "I just had to know if you still think there's something left here like I do."

"No promises," you said. "Just let me change this battery first."

He nodded, backing away to let you work. You worked quickly, then said goodbye. As you drove the truck back to the shop, you contemplated his offer.

"How'd it go?" your boss asked you as you returned the keys to their spot.

"Well enough," you said. "Did you...did you know it was Scott?"

She took a breath. "Yes," she admitted. "I thought that you could use closure."

"Well, you were right," you told her, heading out the door. "And thanks again for the rest of the day."

Once again you sat in your car for a minute before starting it. Then, slowly, you picked up your phone and typed out a text.

_See you in ten?_

You stared at it for a second before pressing send. Scott's reply came almost instantaneously.

_Of course! Cassie and I made cookies yesterday. I hope you like them!_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Well, folks, we got one more after this
> 
> If you leave me nice comments, I might make it two


	55. Extra Luggage (Modern AU!Peggy Carter/Steve Rogers/Bucky Barnes x Reader)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Peggy's not happy about the current situation with her romantic getaway

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> We're caught up to the present now. Don't expect an update for a hot minute or two lol

"Steve, when you said a getaway weekend, I imagined something slightly different," Peggy said.

"Why?" Steve asked, totally oblivious. She squinted her eyes at him and he took his eyes off the road for a moment to look at her. "It's a really nice cottage, I swear!" he promised, but still missing the point. "Pepper helped me find it."

"Yes, well, there's still one detail," she hinted.

"Are we there yet?" Bucky piped up from the back seat.

"Does it look like we're there yet?" Peggy snapped.

"No, ma'am," he replied, snapping to attention at the tone of her voice. "Can I get an estimate of how much longer we'll be on the road?"

Steve glanced down at the car's GPS for an ETA. "We still have a couple more hours," he said. "Hang in there."

"How 'bout I just take a nap instead?" Bucky suggested. "You can pretend like I'm not even here."

Peggy mumbled something under her breath that only Steve caught. Judging from his slightly shocked reaction, Bucky guessed that he didn't want to know what she had said.

She stared determinedly out the window, watching the minimal scenery slowly creep up to the car, then pass it in a flash.

Gentle snoring came from the back seats in a matter of minutes, and Peggy finally felt free to speak her mind.

"This was supposed to be just us."

Steve sighed. "I know, and I'm sorry."

"You, know, I would have been okay with this if you had told me beforehand," she said, sounding slightly less angry as she looked out the window.

"I know that too."

"Then why wouldn't you tell me?"

"It was..." Steve ran a hand through his hair. "It was a last-minute decision."

"And you couldn't have run it by me?"

"Peggy, he found out where we were going an hour before we left and asked if he could tag along just for the drive," he explained quickly. "He won't be staying with us during the week."

"What interest does he have with a small town in Maine?" she asked. "And why would it have been so hard to tell me all of this beforehand instead of letting me be mad at him for no reason?"

"I don't know, Pegs. We're just a couple of stupid kids from Brooklyn."

"You can say that again," she snorted.

"We're just a couple of stupid kids from Brooklyn," he obliged, smirking.

"Steve," she laughed, thwapping his arm with the back of her hand.

"Ah, there she is," he said, smiling. "He found out that his sister lives in that small town. She reached out to him a little while ago, and he's been looking for an excuse to take a break and go see her."

Peggy sat still for a moment before speaking again. "Why do you always make things more complicated than they need to be? You could have told me, 'Hey, Peggy, Bucky's coming with us to see his sister,' and that would have been all that needed to be said."

"Peg--"

"But no! You had to tell me the moment that we left that Bucky was coming along for our trip to Maine with no more explanation."

"I'm sorry--"

"As you very well should be!"

\--

Parked in front of Rebecca's house a few hours later, Steve and Peggy peered together at Bucky passed out on the back seat.

"I don't want to wake him up," Peggy whispered.

"Neither do I."

"We have to, though, don't we? We can't very well sit out here and wait."

"Yeah, Rebecca was expecting us a little earlier than we ended up getting here," he admitted. "I'm a little scared to wake him up, though. The last time I woke him up from a nap, I ended up with a black eye."

Peggy looked at him with raised eyebrows. "He punched you?"

Steve's cheeks turned pink. "Well, no..."

"How'd you end up with a black eye, then?" she asked, a smile growing on her face.

His blush deepened. "I--well, he--" He put his face in his hands. "Why did I bring this up?"

"I don't know, but you did. You have to tell me now." He began to protest, but she stopped him, saying, "You at least owe me this one story in apology for your lack of tact earlier today."

Steve peeked an eye up from behind his hands to look at Peggy and saw that she was absolutely serious. "He scared me and I punched myself," he mumbled.

"You what?" she laughed.

"When I woke him up, he made this horrible screeching sound, and it startled me. I punched myself on accident," he explained bashfully.

"Ah, the misadventures of tiny Steve," she sighed, laughing.

"It wasn't before the serum," he whispered, feeling morally obligated to correct her, but hoping she wouldn't hear. That idea failed.

"When was it, then?"

Just when Peggy thought he couldn't go redder, he somehow managed to. "Three weeks ago."

It was a wonder that Bucky hadn't woken up yet with the racket Peggy was making trying and failing not to laugh.

"You said that you had gotten hit sparring with someone," she said. "You were really that embarrassed?"

"I don't know, what does the color of my face tell you?"

"It tells me that my traumatized supersoldier won't be able to wake his best friend up for fear of hurting himself again."

"You're going to?"

"Watch and learn, Captain." She squared her shoulders and brought out a tone of voice that she only used when directing. "Sergeant Barnes, you're late," she scoffed simply.

Bucky sat up in an instant, suddenly wide awake with a look of wild panic in his eyes. "Yes, Agent Carter, ma'am, sorry, ma'am."

"That's quite alright, Sergeant," she forgave him, smirking. "At ease."

Bucky relaxed, staring groggily at his hands in his lap for a second. "Wait, what?" he mumbled. "Peggy, what the heck?"

"Couldn't resist," she answered, shrugging. "We're here."

"Yeah, yeah, but also why the heck?"

"Steve was scared to wake you up and I wasn't."

Bucky chuckled. "Didn't want to punch yourself again?"

Steve still hadn't recovered from his first round of blushing and was still a brilliant and surely before undiscovered shade of red. "We agreed not to talk about that," he said quietly.

"You asked me not to talk about that, and I just didn't have the opportunity until now," Bucky clarified.

"Let's just go inside," Steve resigned.

He popped the trunk so that Bucky could grab his suitcase, then stepped out of the car. As soon as everyone else was out and the doors were shut, he locked the car. Bucky closed the trunk and the three walked up Rebecca's driveway and up to her front door.

When Bucky hesitated to knock on the door, Peggy stepped up and knocked instead. "We can't have her waiting all day," she quipped.

A young woman answered the door and looked at Steve and Peggy with confusion, but that cleared once her eyes landed on Bucky. "Oh, you must be Rebecca's grandson," you said, offering him your hand to shake. "I'm (Y/N), her housemate of sorts."

"Ah, older brother actually," he corrected you, stepping forward to shake your hand with a newfound bit of pep in his step.

"Brother!" you exclaimed. "I guess that explains even better why you look so much like her. You kept your youth pretty well, didn't you?"

"You could certainly say that," he chuckled. "She, uh, didn't mention anything about a housemate."

You looked at him blankly for a moment. "Of course she didn't. That's just like her."

"Is her mind slipping?" Bucky asked.

"Oh, no, quite the opposite," you laughed. "She's still as sharp as a tack and getting sharper. She didn't mention to me that she was expecting guests."

It was Bucky's turn to look at you blankly as he began to realize Rebecca's intentions. "That is just like her, you're right. I can see she hasn't changed a bit since we were kids."

"Apparently not," you agreed. You then realized that you had been talking at the doorstep for too long. "Oh, you guys can come in. I'll go grab Rebecca." You opened the door wider and welcomed the three in. "Make yourselves at home," you invited.

While you left down the hall to look for Rebecca, she hobbled out of the kitchen on the opposite side of the entryway, looking a little sprightlier than the average near-one-hundred-year-old. "I see you met (Y/N)," she asked Bucky cheekily.

"Becca, I haven't seen you since the war, and the first thing you do is try to set me up?" Bucky asked. 

"You're meant for each other," she responded, shrugging mischievously. "You'll see what I mean by the time this week is over."

"I see age hasn't changed you," he said, smiling.

"I would hope not," she replied, grinning.

The siblings embraced, and it really felt like nothing had changed between them.

\--

After the week had passed, Steve and Peggy drove back to Rebecca's house to pick Bucky up. They stayed for about an hour, having lunch and chatting with you and Rebecca. Both Steve and Peggy caught onto something new in Bucky that hadn't been there before, something they recognized as what they had felt when they had started falling for each other all those years ago.

Once all the goodbyes were said and the three were all back in the car, Bucky's demeanor changed. "Becca was right," he said.

"About what?" Steve asked, exchanging an amused glance with Peggy.

"I think I'm in love."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> If you give me nice comments the wait will be shorter guaranteed


	56. Trust (dad!Phil Coulson x Reader)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Depression is hard

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=-O2Lbmwuyyc
> 
> I love realizing that I'm not the only one that absolutely loves Baby Coulson so huge thanks to all y'all out there that love her with me. This one goes out to berryninjago who introduced me to the song Agent Coulson by the Doubleclicks and like?? Guys. We all need that song.
> 
> Also! I'm going to be at FanX in Salt Lake City on Friday, April 19th. If anyone else will be there that day, please say hi! You can DM me for details if you want. I'm on Tumblr as @andtheniwrotemarvel and on Wattpad as @dumbledavisjr. I'd love to meet y'all!

"You're doing that thing again, Coulson," Fury said, snapping you out of your thoughts.

"That thing?" you asked. "Do clarify."

"The exact same thing you did after New York."

"And that is?"

"Don't play dumb when it comes to ignoring your mental health," Maria chastized you. "You're not subtle about it."

"Well, I'm sorry that I have resting depression face," you scoffed.

"You didn't have resting depression face before you were depressed," Fury said pointedly.

You stared him down, and he stared right back, his eyebrows raised.

"I may very well regret telling you this, but you, (Y/N) Coulson, are one of the few people that I trust," Fury admitted. "It'd certainly be nice if you'd do the same."

"You know, funny thing—I did trust you, and then you died, too," you snapped.

"Too?" Maria pressed.

"Everyone I care about always ends up leaving. They die, or almost die and come back different and distant and cold. I'm just sick of this, and I can't deal with it anymore," you vented. "I'm done losing people."

"Aren't we all?" she chuckled sadly. "It wasn't like this before, losing friends left and right."

"Either to death or betrayal," you added bitterly. "I don't feel like I can trust anyone anymore, not after all of this 'Real SHIELD' crap Bobbi and Mack are pulling."

"Really can't even trust us?" Fury asked, a solemn and humble air to his voice.

You looked back and forth between him and Maria before taking a breath and giving your answer. "I want to, but I can never tell what else you're hiding from me."

"You used to be okay with that," he said.

"That was when SHIELD's secrets were still affordable," you shot back. "I don't know exactly how separated you two are from SHIELD, but secrets are tearing us apart right now."

"I realize it was idealistic of me to think that SHIELD could recover from this," he sighed.

"I thought it could, too," you admitted. "But this is coming from a twenty-two-year-old girl that's spent her whole life with SHIELD. I don't think I can imagine my world going on without it, and that's my problem."

"Does your father know that you feel like this?" Maria inquired.

You stared down at your boots, hating yourself for the answer you were about to give.

"No."

Neither Fury nor Maria had a reply. Phil and (Y/N) Coulson were the father-daughter duo that they knew for their honesty and near inability to keep anything from the other. For you to keep your depression and borderline identity crisis from him, you couldn't have been in anywhere close to your right mind.

"I feel like I can't tell anyone anything anymore," you said, choking on your words. "Everyone else is going through so much right now, and I shouldn't burden them with my feelings, too."

"Don't lie to yourself. Your feelings are just as important as theirs," Maria stated with conviction. "If they confide in you, then you can confide in them."

"But they don't confide in me! They haven't done that since my boyfriend died. They keep saying that I can talk to them, but I just can't do that. I have this stupid, ridiculous sense of pride that I have to keep up for no reason, and I can't even drop it around my own father anymore!"

You felt tears starting to sting your eyes after you finally admitted what you'd been keeping inside for so long. In an attempt to keep them from spilling over, you laughed.

"Who knew that Nick Fury and Maria Hill would just end up trying to help a kid with her mental health?" you chuckled, a bitter edge to your voice. "I know for a fact that you both have better things to do."

"Not when that kid is one of Earth's strongest defenders. I have nothing better to do," Fury countered. "You're an Avenger, (Y/N) Coulson. You're the only SHIELD agent that can still say that."

"When we get to Sokovia, your voice might the only real voice of hope they've heard during this whole ordeal," Maria added.

"Who, the citizens?"

"The Avengers."

\--

You noticed the Maximoff girl sitting by herself on the trip down to safety. No tears trailed down her cheeks, but you could see the pain she was feeling in both her face and her posture. She sat with her legs drawn up to her chest, her face resting on her knees. The body of her brother rested a few feet away from her, but no one could bring themselves to look at him.

You recognized her posture as your own. She was lost, and she saw no one that could guide her.

"I wish I knew how to help her, too," a sudden voice came from next to you, disturbing your thoughts.

"Everything I can think to say sounds like everything I hated people telling me when I lost my father," you said, not bothering to turn to face the man belonging to the voice, instead favoring your boots. "I'm not exactly the poster-child for grieving, though."

"How would you define a poster-child for grieving?" he asked with a hint of amusement.

"Probably as someone that doesn't get stuck between anger and depression for years."

You finally turned to look up at Steve Rogers to find his piercing blue gaze meeting yours unwaveringly. Despite the dirt and sweat on his face, his expression was soft and open, ready to listen. His arms rested on his knees, and he really just looked like a concerned mom.

Despite yourself, you smiled and looked back down at your boots. "You don't look like you've had the best day, Cap," you jived.

"Really? Imagine that," he wondered sarcastically. "You'd think I'd look just fine after punching murderbots all day."

"Oh, you still look plenty fine," you teased him with a sly smirk. "Tired and done? Kinda dirty and gross? Undoubtedly. But you're still pretty easy on the eyes."

"I could say the same thing about you. Funny, though—you were only punching murderbots for five minutes and you look about the same as I do."

You raised your eyebrows. "So that's how it is, huh?"

"Oh, that's how it is."

"And I thought you were supposed to be made of chivalry or something like that."

"What do you call catching you when the city started falling?"

"Common sense?" you answered, a little bewildered. "I would have done the same for you, no chivalry necessary."

"Even though my weight would have pulled you down with me?"

"Wouldn't have even run through my mind," you admitted, shrugging. "Next thing I'd have known, I'd have been falling right above you without the slightest clue as to why."

"I'm glad that's not the way it happened, then," he laughed. "Can you even imagine what your father would say about that if that's how we died?"

You let out a real laugh for the first time since you'd lost Trip. "I honestly have no idea. I'll have to ask him," you chuckled. You caught your slip immediately and recovered before Steve noticed. "Add that to the list of things to ask my dad when I die."

"Not if I don't get to ask him first," he challenged you, relaxing in his seat.

"You're not seriously initiating a race to see who dies first, are you?"

"With all of the crazy stuff we get into, it might as well be, right?"

As he smiled at you, you finally felt like the world was stable for a second. You could ignore your problems and enjoy the moment with him. It was just you and Steve.

And Clint Barton.

"Hey, Cap, instead of flirting with the hired help, how about you help me over here?" Clint called to Steve.

"Hired help?" you scoffed. " _Flirting_?"

"Yeah, don't mind him," Steve said. "He's weird."

"You act like I haven't known him practically my whole life," you responded. "Weird is an understatement."

"And how about nosy?"

"Not usually," you remarked. "Maybe he's jealous that you might be getting action and he's not?"

He guffawed as he stood up. "You know he's married, right?"

"I'm sorry, he's what now?" you inquired, mildly offended. "Barton, how come I've never met the missus?"

"None of your business," he answered tartly.

"I'll give him that," you acknowledged to yourself. _That's still kinda lame, though_ , you thought.

There was another secret someone was keeping from you. You scowled to yourself and told yourself not to think about it that way, but it was hard not to. It seemed that all your life was now was finding out retroactively about secrets that had been kept from you.

There were always more secrets.

More lies.

More betrayals.

Trust no one.

It's not like anyone trusts you anyway.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Throw comments at me like rotten fruit
> 
> Actually no like flowers. Throw comments at me like flowers


	57. Valid (Approved Alternate)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Approved except the opposite

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey my dialogue prompt requests are open until September 6th or something! If you want to request something, go to either @andtheniwrotemarvel on Tumblr or And Then I Wrote Marvel by @dumbledavisjr on Wattpad

"We can get her back."

"You don't understand, I left her!"

"She knew what she was doing, Parker. She told you to get out of there--"

"That shouldn't have mattered!" Peter huffed, his anxiety apparent in his posture. He was curling up into himself, his hands furled around each other close to his face. "It was my responsibility to keep her safe, and I failed."

"Kid, come on," Steve said, placing a steady hand on the boy's shoulder. "Give my daughter some credit here. She told you to leave her there for a reason."

"I--no, I was the senior agent," he argued. "I could have--I should have--"

"You don't work that way," Sam reminded him. "You've never been a commander and a unit, you're a team."

"And if one of you does have to take charge, it's almost always (Y/N)," Natasha added. "It's doubtful that she would have taken no for an answer."

"She knows what she's doing better than you do anyway, punk," Bucky pointed out.

"Hey, I thought I was punk," Steve complained.

"Your daughter is trapped alone at a Hydra base and you're more worried about a nickname?" Peter questioned incredulously.

"Peter, you need to chill out," Tony said.

"Chill out? I'm the only one thinking rationally here!" he exclaimed, standing up rapidly. "She's alone and we don't even know if she's okay! Our comms are jammed, so we don't have a way to communicate with her, and the last time I saw her, we were being attacked by so many people that I couldn't even see her! Why don't you all--" Peter's breath hitched-- "Why can't you--" he fought back tears as he continued to work himself up.

"Peter?" Steve prompted.

"Why wasn't I enough?" he agonized.

The boy fell back into his chair and buried his face in his hands. Shrinking into himself once more, he fought to control his breathing as his emotions became overwhelming. Never before had he failed like this. The one person he had promised to protect with his life he had left alone, and why? Because she had promised the same thing to him. She was stronger than him; she hadn't backed out of her promise.

Above all else, Peter felt weak.

Peter felt weak and incapable and ashamed for having left. All he wanted was for you to hold him in your tight embrace so that he could know that you were all right, but that couldn't happen because he had abandoned you. Why didn't he stay? Why wasn't he capable of taking you with him?

"Why wasn't I enough?" he whispered again.

Steve reached out to put a hand on Peter's shoulder to try to comfort him, but Peter recoiled as if Steve's touch were caustic.

"You don't get it, Captain Rogers, I left—" Peter stuttered— "I left your daughter because I wasn't strong enough to get her out with me."

"I'm not blaming you."

"You don't get it!" he repeated angrily, meeting Steve's eyes. Peter's shone with tears ready to spill over. "You weren't there."

"Walk us through," Bruce requested. "What would we have seen if we were there?"

"What happened to make her feel like she needed to tell you to leave?" Natasha added.

Peter took a breath to stabilize himself, swiping his arm over his face. "We were stormed by at least twenty men twice our size," he related.

"Those are bad odds," Steve sighed.

"But we're Avengers," Peter argued. "Everything we do is based on bad odds."

"We're adults that have built our lives on beating the odds, but you're just kids with barely more than a couple of years of experience. It's okay not to be perfect."

"We still make mistakes sometimes," Sam added. "Not to mention that we all know to listen to (Y/N) Rogers of all people when she tells us to do something."

"Don't hold yourself accountable for this. You did your best, and that's what matters," Natasha said.

"Let the kid tell his story," Tony complained. "You're interrupting him every three seconds to try to make him feel better."

"For the record, it's kind of working," Peter shrugged.

"Keep going," he prompted.

"Right. Well, um, the first thing they did was to separate us. If I had been able to stay with her, we would have been able to beat them without a whole lot of issue."

"Synergy," Bruce interjected.

"But I let myself be separated from her. We were pushed into corners, plus they were airing some kind of static over the comms so that we couldn't communicate at all."

"That's really smart but really scary to think about," Natasha worried. "You two are practically undefeatable when you're working together. You're a better team than Steve and Bucky."

"I've watched you two kick their butts enough times to confirm," Sam snarked.

"So when did you decide to leave, Peter?" Steve interjected suddenly, turning a little pink in the cheeks.

"When she told me to," he answered. "The static on the comms let up, and she told me to get out. Wouldn't even let me argue."

"What did she say exactly?" 

"Oh, I have the transcript," Bruce offered. "(Y/N) told him, quite articulately, I might add, 'Get your cute little butt out of here before I make you, Parker.'"

Snickers rose up from around the room. Even when you weren't here, you were still able to add the perfect touch of comic relief when it was needed.

"Where did she get her sense of humor?" Sam asked Natasha quietly. "Not her parents, that's for sure."

"Her uncles, I think. Probably you and Barton for the most part," she answered, smirking. 

"She said more after that, didn't she?" Peter asked Bruce.

"Ah, yeah, she did. After you tried to argue for a second, she said, 'Tell my dad I'm sorry, but tell him that he knows I can hold my own, too. Don't take too long coming back, 'kay?'"

"I'm not the one she needed to convince of that. She knows that I trust her," Steve said. "I thought you did, too, Parker. When did that change?"

"I--I don't--" The question caught Peter off-guard. "It's not (Y/N) I don't trust. I know that every decision she makes is the right one for the situation."

"Then what has you so worked up?"

"The whole situation!" he exclaimed. "It's so frustrating that she had to make the decision that she did. I'm frustrated because I wasn't good enough to prevent it."

"None of us would have been," Steve said firmly. "There's not a single one of us that could have prevented this. You were the most likely if we're being perfectly honest."

"That does not make me feel better."

"Let's talk about extraction," Tony interrupted. "FRIDAY was able to connect to (Y/N) for a second just now and it turns out she's fine as of now. She's been hiding in the vents this whole time."

"Another thing she picked up from Barton," Sam snickered.

"Unfortunately, we don't know exactly where she is except for the second floor. That's all we have to go on," he continued. "Who's up for the mission?"

"I'd like to volunteer Peter," Steve said.

"I'll second that," Natasha said. Most everyone else nodded in agreement. "Who do you want to take as backup?"

"Hold on, I didn't agree to this--"

"Too bad," she dismissed. "We can have a spider-people mission."

"Or a bug-people mission," Scott volunteered, speaking up for the first time.

"Um, how about..." Peter looked around the room, pushing down his self-doubt. "Cap? Do you want to come with me?"

Steve clapped a hand on Peter's shoulder. "I'd be honored."


End file.
